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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27351502">warm like a gun</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoTheBuckIsStucky/pseuds/WhoTheBuckIsStucky'>WhoTheBuckIsStucky</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>N.C.T. (NeoCity Trilogy) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band), Red Velvet (K-pop Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(none of the neos or velvets are there's just like . ai and stuff), Adventure, Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Alternate Universe - Future, Androids, Angst, Cyberpunk, Dystopia, F/F, F/M, Fluff, I don't wanna tag too much bc spoilers and i also don't want my tags to be a page long, I said we will go to NeoCity., M/M, References to sex but no actual, Science Fiction, but there's violence and this is going to be quite long, it's also very anti-capitalist so if you like capitalism (?) get out, oh please please heed the warning like it IS violent like there's murder., oh um the people who are tagged individually are the ones from whose perspective you'll be reading</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:53:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>71,345</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27351502</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoTheBuckIsStucky/pseuds/WhoTheBuckIsStucky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A city, walled off to the rest of the world, the last monument to human society. A string of mysterious disappearances. A government that can't be all that it seems. A faceless threat. A broken system, and growing dissent among the general population. And a group of friends, circling and stumbling closer and closer to the truth.</p><p>Welcome to NeoCity.</p><p>***updates every other thursday!***</p><p> </p><p>  <i>red velvet doesn't appear until chapter 8; however, rest assured they are VERY important to this story. I needed to get some setup out of the way first, which doesn't involve them, as they're too close to the main plot arc.</i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bae Joohyun | Irene/Kang Seulgi, Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Nakamoto Yuta, Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Qian Kun, Kim Jungwoo/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Kim Yerim | Yeri &amp; Original Character(s), Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin, Lee Taeyong/Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten, Mark Lee/Nakamoto Yuta, Park Sooyoung | Joy/Original Female Character(s), female character of course this is for the gays as always, the yuta situation is just yuwin then breakup then yumark, theres no cheating or throuples lol</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>N.C.T. (NeoCity Trilogy) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2094108</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>64</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>62</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I will just say the relationships are kind of an aside to the general plot. They're certainly there, but the point of this is my agenda and my love for the cyberpunk aesthetic and dystopian stories. I hope you'll give it a chance, though!!</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>you have NO IDEA how excited i am to be sharing this with you. it's still under construction, but I hope to be updating the total number of expected chapters soon. I've been thinking about this one since, oh, like May?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jungwoo shrugs on his overcoat as he walks past the sensor for the door. It opens as he reaches it, and he strides out into the brisk air, careful not to spill his coffee. It’s still early autumn, but a cold front had swept over the city last night, leaving its residents to dust off boxes of winter clothing that had been lying dormant on the top shelf of a closet all summer.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>Cars whir by overhead; the faint hum of electric engines is drowned out by the bustle of people on the ground, chatting and hurrying about their days. Advertisements flash and flicker brightly on the sides of skyscrapers. Ahead of him, the giant towers of corporate buildings loom, their windows gleaming in the weak afternoon sun. Ghosts of the original city remain, too—he glances down the street to his right and catches a glimpse of the night market at the end as he passes by. Now, it’s mostly used for illicit trades and other business Jungwoo doesn’t care to learn about, but before, when there was still an abundance of fresh crops, it had been a hub, a prime gathering spot for all the citizens of NeoCity to dance and drink and try exotic foods into the late hours of the night. Now, in the day, it lays dormant, gate rusted, tents covered in a layer of dust and grime.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>Jungwoo looks up to his left as he exits the noisy shopping district. There’s an old billboard, facing the main gates that lead to the outside world. The sign hasn’t been tended to in many years, so the lettering is faint, and if Jungwoo didn’t already know what it said, he isn’t sure he’d even be able to make it out. <em> To the world, welcome to NCity! </em> The irony of the row of heavily armed guards stationed in front of the gates is not lost on him. He rakes his gaze over them quickly as he crosses into the business district.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>Generations ago, NeoCity was flourishing. The parks were filled with beautiful plants; the farms had an abundance of food crops, as well as a small number of animals for consumption. The water was clean and pure; business was good, and so was tourism. </p><p class="p1"> </p><p>But then came years-long onslaughts of bad weather. Harsh, cold winters gave way almost instantly to scorching, dry summers, and then back again. Crops withered and died; sickness spread rapidly. Cities shut their gates to visitors. Wars broke out over natural resources. People everywhere were searching for someone to blame more than they were searching for solutions, so they didn’t pay any mind to how they were polluting the earth. The soil became nearly entirely infertile. NeoCity only survived because it had very good tech and wise leaders. They expanded force field technology, and made a protective shield that ran over the walls and created a dome overhead. Communication with other civilizations is now not only impossible, but illegal, as it poses a security threat. Not that it matters anyway. As far as anyone knows, no one else survived. Those few who did don’t live in societies, but are vagabonds, wandering and likely riddled with disease or poisoned by radiation. They don’t let anybody in, and they’re not allowed out, either. It’s too dangerous. That’s how it’s been for eighty years.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>Jungwoo cradles his coffee cup in both hands as he waits for the eye scanner to recognize him and unlock the doors of the office building. It’s real coffee—rare, but not completely out of stock—not the powdered shit most stores sell. It’s expensive, but that’s not really why Jungwoo doesn’t get it very often. He can certainly afford it, he just knows it’s in short supply, and he doesn’t want to hoard its consumption. So he only gets it on holidays or his birthday, or when he’s just gotten a big project approved, and he needs to wrap up all his loose ends so he can send out his final results.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>It’s the latter today. The door opens and he heads inside, going straight to the elevators to take him back up to his office, sipping his coffee. He’s set to roll out an update for their most recent droid model. Users had complained that their speech was choppy and sometimes didn’t make sense, and he realized there’d been a bug when they’d downloaded language from their databases. Luckily, all droids are connected to the internet—it’s illegal for them not to be—so once his update patch is tested and approved, they’ll be able to upload the code and fix them all immediately. Also, then he’ll be able to get back to the workshop instead of being trapped in front of his computer all day. </p><p class="p1"> </p><p>He plunks back down in his seat, and leans back, looking out the window. His dad is the CEO of the company—Zeus Engineering, Inc., because his father has an interest in ancient mythologies, and also because Zeus is a play on Jungwoo’s name—so Jungwoo has a nice office with a view of the city. From here, he can see his apartment building on the other side of the shopping district. Beyond that, the suburbs, and then the rest is hard to make out, except for the growing towers of “matchboxes”—tightly packed apartments built to be just enough. They quickly ran out of horizontal space, so they started building upwards. They’re cheap, but very cramped.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>He sighs, and turns his attention back to his computer, downing the rest of his coffee, which is rapidly cooling. Just a few more hours of work, and he can go see his friends. <em> Being a real adult sucks, </em> he thinks as he aims his empty cup at a nearby trash can, sending it sailing through the air. He misses.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>&gt;&gt;&gt;:&lt;&lt;&lt;</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>17.00 finds him on his way out the door, scarf wound around his neck. The energy shield around the city protects from things like snow and wind, but not against the changing of temperatures. When they need it, the city officials will put a filter up and let the rain through in certain sectors to collect for drinking water. Luckily, today is just cold, so Jungwoo doesn’t bother pulling out his phone to check where rainfall is scheduled.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>Everyone is out, so getting back to his place takes a little longer than usual. He weaves and dodges through the crowd, sidestepping messenger droids and almost getting his head taken off by a kid on a hoverboard. By the time he’s walking up to his apartment building, it’s almost 18.00, and Yukhei is already standing outside. Completely in contrast to Jungwoo’s buttoned-up, business formal attire, Yukhei is in a pair of loose black pants, silver zippers flashing as he shifts his weight from leg to leg, and a white hoodie with angular stitching—simple, and comfortable. Jungwoo’s heart feels like it’s vibrating in his chest. </p><p class="p1"> </p><p>He and Yukhei—they’re not dating, but they’re certainly something. They just haven’t really talked about it yet. He’s kinda hoping they will tonight—he’s having Yukhei and a few others over, but he knows they’ll go home early, and Yukhei will probably stay.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“Sorry,” Jungwoo says in lieu of a greeting when he draws near. “It’s crazy out there. Everyone’s already out for the night.” He turns to scan in as Yukhei peels himself off the wall, laughing.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“You know, if you’d just get a car,” he points out. “You could get here in like five minutes flat.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“I don’t want to bother with parking,” Jungwoo says, beckoning Yukhei in and following after. </p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“Okay, trust fund. I’m just saying some of us would love a car.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“I can get you a car,” Jungwoo offers as they step into the elevator. Yukhei rolls his eyes, shaking his head.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“No, thank you. I’m happy on my scooter. At least I know what it wants from me,” he says. “Since I built it.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“And it didn’t even take another finger from you.” Jungwoo nods at the metal prosthetic. Yukhei makes a fist, watching the reflections it casts on the wall. He sliced his left ring finger off early on in his mechanics training, and Jungwoo had helped him build and wire a replacement.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>The elevator dings gently, and they step off, strolling down the hall to Jungwoo’s unit. He groans as soon as the door is shut, struggling out of his coat and fumbling with the ties on his corset vest. “Finally,” he says. “This thing has been suffocating me all day.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>Yukhei just laughs, coming up behind him and batting his hands away. Jungwoo lets his arms fall to his sides, sighing as Yukhei unlaces the corset, loosening it to the top and pulling it up over Jungwoo’s head. He smooths down Jungwoo’s shirt, big hands warm against Jungwoo’s waist. “I know you all like to dress very proper,” he comments, “but you could go for something a little less… cramp-inducing? Asphyxiating?”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>Jungwoo turns, taking it from him with a pout. “But it looks good.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>Yukhei nods, grinning, brushing hair out of his eyes and following Jungwoo into the kitchen. “It does look good,” he agrees.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“Why didn’t Kunhang and Taeil come with you?” Jungwoo asks as he pads down the hall to his bedroom.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“Taeil had to finish some things up at the park,” Yukhei says. “And Kunhang said he was in the middle of something, so he’d just wait for Taeil to be done so they could walk together.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>Jungwoo hums, nodding as he pulls out a pair of forest green cargo pants and a thin black turtleneck. Yukhei leans on his doorframe, watching the city out the window as Jungwoo changes quickly, throwing his work clothes into the laundry basket next to his closet. “And Sungchan?”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“I don’t know, he doesn’t live in my neighborhood.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“I know, I just thought I’d ask.” Jungwoo smiles at him. “Well. How about a snack while we wait?”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“Oh, sure.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>Jungwoo offers mostly because he knows Yukhei can’t get his hands on real, fresh food. After the famine, a majority of food products were canned to preserve them. What the government does manage to grow is very pricey. Jungwoo can afford it, so he buys it, but Yukhei’s family can barely afford the canned shit. Real food is out of the question, especially after Yukhei’s father died the year before from a bad illness. It came on quickly, and they didn’t have the funds to take him to a hospital. Yukhei didn’t tell Jungwoo because he knew Jungwoo would try to pay for it. Shortly after, his mother quit her job because she couldn’t cope with the stress and her grief. Yukhei’s younger brother, Karkiu, is still in school, in his 13th year, so it was up to Yukhei to provide for them. His job as a mechanic paid well, but not well enough, so he started bootlegging mods on the side for some extra money. Still, it’s barely enough for them to stay afloat. </p><p class="p1"> </p><p>Jungwoo isn’t sure if Yukhei is just very proud, or doesn’t want to be a burden, but he never accepts any money from him. Snacks and meals, here and there, are the only loopholes Jungwoo has found, so he abuses them whenever he gets a chance, offering to eat together even if he’s not hungry.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>He actually is hungry today, though, so he pulls out some leftovers from the dinner he had at his parents’ house the night before and puts it in the oven. Jungwoo isn’t much of a cook—people rarely are these days, unless they work at a restaurant—so he packs leftovers home from his parents’ whenever he can. </p><p class="p1"> </p><p>The oven beeps and Jungwoo pulls it out, setting it on the counter and grabbing chopsticks so they can eat. They’re quiet for a moment, Yukhei making soft distressed noises when he realizes the giant mouthful of noodles he’s just put in his mouth is much too hot, and then Jungwoo hears the chime of his doorbell.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“Jung Sungchan, Moon Taeil, and Wong Kunhang are requesting building access,” the cool robotic voice announces over his speakers. </p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“Live video feed?” he asks. He doesn’t have any reason to doubt it, but he always likes to check. “Audio, too.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“One moment.” A hologram pops up in between him and Yukhei over their food. Sure enough, he sees Sungchan peering into the intercom, barely visible due to his large frame, and Taeil and Kunhang are looking over his shoulders. </p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“Let us up, I’m cold!” Sungchan is saying, and Jungwoo laughs.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“Yeah, let them in,” he says, swiping the screen away with the flick of his hand. It whooshes out of view, and his doorbell makes an affirmative chime.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“You act like it could be assassins, sent to kill you.” Yukhei wiggles his eyebrows.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“Just in case,” Jungwoo says. “You never know. Maybe they’re mad at my dad, right?”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“Oh, now what on earth could someone possibly be mad at your father for?” Yukhei taps his chin in exaggerated thoughtfulness. “Completely beyond me.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“See?” Jungwoo stands, clearing their now empty dishes from the counter. “It’s possible.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>It’s not that Jungwoo hates his father or anything. But it is true that he could be better, as a person. He could pay their lower-ranking employees better. And he had laid off a whole group of workers just a few months ago with no warning when he upgraded all the machines in the factories and found they didn’t need as many employees. Kunhang’s father had been among those let go. Jungwoo’s dad didn’t offer them much of a severance package.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>His doorbell chimes again. “Let them in,” he says, before the bot can even ask. He hears the door click, and it’s accompanied by a rush of voices.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“Jungwoo!” Kunhang pops his head around the corner. “You should stop by my place sometime. I’m almost done with this new droid.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“And I’ve succeeded in another batch of potatoes,” Taeil adds. </p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“I don’t have anything special going on, but I’m inserting myself into this conversation anyway!” Sungchan announces, scooting past the other two to give Jungwoo a hug.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>They all say their hellos, and then Jungwoo pulls out snacks and they settle in front of the TV to see what they can find to watch. They find a channel that’s showing <em> Kingsmen </em>, an old movie that everyone’s seen before—but it’s fine. New output is slow these days, and there’s not a lot to choose from. Most of the older stuff was lost in the wars. Everyone has pretty much already seen everything. </p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“It’s better than the news, at any rate,” Yukhei points out, and they all half-snort, half groan into their chips.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>Jungwoo crunches on the pink hexagons, thinking. The news—and a series of talk shows—are primarily what’s shown; there are a few channels that play old entertainment, and a couple that broadcast recent shows as they come out. One of their friends, Jeno, is in one that’s now about halfway through its first season, but it isn’t on today, so they are stuck with reruns. There really isn’t ever much on the news, and the talk shows feel stunted and scripted, so Jungwoo rarely watches them.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“Oh,” Kunhang is saying. “You know the people that live down the block from me? The ones with the bikes?” The group murmurs in assent. “One of the sons went missing. The middle one.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>Everyone sits up a little straighter. “When?” Taeil asks.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“Yesterday, apparently,” Kunhang says. “Sometime in the afternoon. They filed a police report, but…”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“Wonder what happened,” Yukhei murmurs.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“D’you think it’s like Johnny’s dad?” Sungchan pipes up.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“Well, we don’t know <em> what </em> happened to Johnny’s dad, so that’s a hard question to answer,” Jungwoo points out.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>Taeil flashes him a look. “We know he’s missing, we know he wasn’t in trouble with any of the gangs, and we know the police aren’t really helping Johnny or his mom,” he says. “I think it’s pretty clear what happened to him.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“I think you’re paranoid,” Kunhang says. “That doesn’t happen in real life. I feel like we’d know—if that’s how things were.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“I don’t know,” Sungchan says. “I mean—what they did to <em> your </em> dad, Kunhang—no offense, Jungwoo, but that wasn’t fair.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“Yeah, sure, but that doesn’t mean we’re living in some kind of insane police state,” Kunhang replies. Yukhei and Taeil exchange a look, and Yukhei raises his eyebrows. They’re all quiet for a moment, pretending to watch the movie.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>Jungwoo watches as Kunhang reaches for another chip. He, like Yukhei, had gotten into an accident when he was first doing some heavy-duty hands-on building, but unlike Yukhei, it hadn’t just been a finger. It had been part of his left arm, hand and all. Luckily, he’d kept his elbow, and Jungwoo had been able to help him build a new arm. It moves well now—if Jungwoo didn’t know what to look for, he wouldn’t be able to tell Kunhang’s arm isn’t real. It looks like normal skin, and even has little heaters to match his body temperature, but it’s all synthetic. Jungwoo drew inspiration from the human-emulator droids his father’s company is known for. Kunhang’s arm is special, though; it has compartments for little tools and things that Kunhang finds useful when he’s building. </p><p class="p1"> </p><p>It’s all mildly illegal, really—Yukhei’s finger, Kunhang’s arm, Taeil’s potatoes—but unless you show outright dissent with the things you do, or unless you’re posing a real threat to someone’s safety, the officials turn a blind eye. Hell, Kunhang’s mom is a cop herself, but she didn’t say a word when Kunhang turned up for dinner one day with a new arm, like his accident had never even happened. She has her badge, and Jungwoo has his money to protect Kunhang if it comes to that. Strictly speaking, you need to see a doctor with a license before you can get a new mod, but no one’s really checking.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>Taeil’s a slightly different story. Technically, growing your own food could be incredibly harmful, because most of the plants that even manage to take root and grow in the soil in NeoCity usually bear no edible produce, or quickly mutate into something poisonous. The government had managed to isolate some soil, and had created a safe greenhouse in one of their buildings to grow the little fresh food that is available—half of it gets canned, in the case that things stopped growing again. It’s highly regulated and goes through a series of tests that takes time and money. </p><p class="p1"> </p><p>So for those who have low income, it’s completely out of reach—unless they start growing it themselves. A while back, people sort of figured out how to purify the soil in tiny amounts, and started little ecosystems in their houses. There were definitely some mistakes made, and some deaths as a result, but after a while, a method had been perfected and passed around. Crop-related death rarely happens now, so most cops don’t bother to arrest people when it means fewer people go hungry. Jungwoo has a feeling it’s just because they know if they do arrest people, and then there’s a food shortage, there’ll be riots.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>It’s growing dark, and once the movie ends, Taeil takes over Jungwoo’s kitchen to cook them all dinner. The rest of them mill around somewhat uselessly, offering their help when they can, and then happily settle down to eat. Jungwoo makes sure they all pack the leftovers. He can always go to the store. </p><p class="p1"> </p><p>It’s pretty late now, around 22.00, so Taeil, Kunhang, and Sungchan excuse themselves after clearing the table. </p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“Get home safe,” Jungwoo says. “Stick together.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“We will,” Kunhang says, rolling his eyes. “See you.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>And then it’s just him and Yukhei.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>Yukhei is slouched down in one of Jungwoo’s dining room chairs, hands over his stomach. “I’m so full I could die,” he says, and Jungwoo laughs.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“That’s what you get for taking fourths,” he chastises gently, taking a seat beside him.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“You don’t need to remind me of my mistakes,” Yukhei groans, closing his eyes. “I’m very aware of them.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“Come on, the couch will be more comfortable. We can play a game.” Jungwoo takes Yukhei’s hands and tugs.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“Game takes too much brain power. All my energy is going into digestion right now.” Yukhei lets Jungwoo drag him back to the living room and situate him on the couch. When Jungwoo sits down beside him, he leans against his shoulder. “Read to me.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>Jungwoo hums, leaning forward to sift through the few books he has in his coffee table. Actual, physical books are rare these days—why have the physical copy when you can get it in a much more secure, permanent form electronically?—but Jungwoo’s slowly collecting what he can. He likes the feel of the pages between his fingers. </p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“Okay,” he agrees. “What do you want?”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“Mm, <em> The Lord of the Rings </em> ,” Yukhei says, and Jungwoo finds it and leans back, wrapping an arm around Yukhei’s shoulders and pulling him closer. It’s really tragic, actually, because Jungwoo only has the <em> Fellowship of the Ring </em> and <em> Return of the King</em>. He’s been searching high and low for <em> The Two Towers </em> , and <em> The Hobbit </em>, but hasn’t had any luck yet.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>Jungwoo reads to him for a while. Yukhei is quiet after the first chapter, so when he finishes the second he pauses, and taps lightly on Yukhei’s arm. “Still with me?”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“Mm-hm,” Yukhei says. “Just comfy.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“We can sleep, if you want. It’s getting late.” He looks over at the clock on the wall. It’s 23.17. </p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“Mm-mm,” Yukhei says, shaking his head. His hair tickles Jungwoo’s arm, and he laughs. “If we sleep then I can’t hang out with you.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“My bed’s big enough for two,” Jungwoo says.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>There’s a beat of silence, and then Yukhei sits up, slowly. “I think we should talk if we’re gonna do that.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“We’re not gonna—do—anything,” Jungwoo says. “But I agree. I—” The words get caught in his throat. <em> I like you a lot, Yukhei </em>. It’s not that he doesn’t think Yukhei knows. It just feels stupid to say.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“I can see the gears turning so fast in your head they’re sparking,” Yukhei says. “We don’t have to make this such a thing.” He takes one of Jungwoo’s hands in his own, and the cool metal of his finger grounds Jungwoo. “I like you and I know you like me. Can I kiss you now?”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>Jungwoo tilts his head back and laughs. <em> This </em> is why he likes Yukhei. People think he’s simpleminded, but he’s really just efficient. He doesn’t need things to be extravagant; he just wants things to be easy. And they are, with him, and it’s such a breath of fresh air from the stuffy life Jungwoo’s parents live. “Yes,” Jungwoo says, extracting his hands from Yukhei’s so he can hold his face between them. “Yes, it’s all I want.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>Yukhei grins, meeting him halfway. Their noses bump and Jungwoo giggles. It’s sweet and sure, and Jungwoo’s head spins with possibilities. </p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“Why did that take us so long?” Jungwoo asks.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>Yukhei smiles. “Probably my fault,” he admits. “I… didn’t think it would be proper. Because it’s not—you’d have to, like, take care of me, and I didn’t want to be your charity case.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“It’s not charity, it’s just looking after someone you care about,” Jungwoo interjects, rolling his eyes.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“I know,” Yukhei says. “It just took me a second. I know you’ll let me have life my way. And my way is hard, sometimes. But when it is, I just remember you.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>“Cheesy,” Jungwoo murmurs affectionately, nudging him. “C’mon. Let’s go to bed. We’ll still be here in the morning.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p>Curled up warm under the covers, the troubles of the factory layoffs, the food problems, the strange disappearances—they all seem far away. Tomorrow morning they’ll be real again. This weekend, Jungwoo will help Johnny put posters up around town. This weekend, Jungwoo will see what he can do for Kunhang’s father. But right now, all that matters is Yukhei’s back pressed to his chest. Jungwoo kisses his shoulder, and Yukhei hums softly. Sleep finds him easily, even though it wouldn’t be a big deal if it didn’t. Tomorrow will be a slow day, anyway.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank you for reading! please lmk what you think! come yell at me on my tumblr <a href="https://kjmsupremacist.tumblr.com/about">here</a> (you'll also find a link to my buy me a coffee on that page ^^)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ten groans, the buzzing of his alarm harsh in his ears. He hasn’t slept well in weeks, and by the time he finally managed to fall into a deep, restful sleep last night, the morning was near, and he was wrenched back into wakefulness. There’s no helping it, though—a local bootlegger wanted his sketches in first thing in the morning, and Ten doesn’t have the bandwidth to send HD images over the internet, so he has to go deliver them by hand.</p><p> </p><p><em> It’s okay</em>, he thinks to himself as he splashes his face with water. He’ll see Taeyong later, and Johnny and Jisung. </p><p> </p><p>He goes through his schedule in his head as he boils some water. His portion of bread is rising in the oven, and he stirs instant coffee into a mug—probably not quite enough, but he has to ration it.</p><p> </p><p>After eating, he tugs on an old sweatshirt and some loose pants, and shoves his feet in his sneakers. He gathers his sketches from his desk and heads out to his porch, locking the door behind him. </p><p> </p><p>He lives in a matchbox apartment. He doesn’t even know how many stories high it is. They’re not real stories, anyway—all their ceilings are low and cramped. He takes the little pulley elevator down the side, shivering against the early morning chill. He could live with his mom and his sister in the trailer park, but he wanted to protect them a bit from his work, so he moved out. </p><p> </p><p>Ten was supposed to be a dancer. He was good, had trained for years. But then, his knees gave out and he didn’t have enough money for real surgery, or for mods to make him better. He’s lucky he can still walk, with the minimal treatment he received. So instead he does errands and sketches for bootleggers. It doesn’t bring in a lot of revenue, but it’s better than nothing. His mother works at one of the factories—luckily, the one for the beauty company, not the one Jungwoo’s dad owns—so her job is safe, for now. His little sister, Tern, is trying to find a job as a designer, but she hasn’t had any luck. His father had left years and years ago, a little after Tern was born.</p><p> </p><p>He strolls up to the bootlegger’s trailer and knocks on his door. He hears shuffling and then the door opens.</p><p> </p><p>“Sketches for you,” Ten says, handing a couple over for him to inspect.</p><p> </p><p>The man grunts, scanning them with his eyes. Eventually, he nods. “You have all twelve?” he asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Ten replies, holding up the rest of the papers. “I want a hundred units each.”</p><p> </p><p>“Each?” The man scoffs. “Make it fifty, and I’ll take them.”</p><p> </p><p>“Eighty,” Ten argues.</p><p> </p><p>“Seventy.” The man pulls out an old tablet, implying that’s the best Ten’s gonna get, gesturing for him to do the same. He opens to his banking app, and it chimes a few moments later. Eight hundred and forty units. Ten nods, waiting for the little verification checkmark, and then passes the man the rest of the sketches.</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks,” he says. “Let me know if you need more.”</p><p> </p><p>The man just grunts and ducks back into his trailer, closing the door with a snap.</p><p> </p><p>It’s still early, so Ten heads down the road to the shopping district. He’s almost out of food, and he needs more baking soda for his homemade detergents. </p><p> </p><p>He swings by his place to drop things off. It’s 08.00 now, late enough that his mom is probably up and getting ready for work. He brings a can of sausages with him and goes back to the trailer park, walking up to his old home and knocking on the door. </p><p> </p><p>His mom greets him, and he presses the can into her hands, and then goes to give Tern a hug where she’s sitting, sleepily hunched over some dry cereal. “How are you guys?”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine,” Tern says softly, shaking him off. “You’re up early.”</p><p> </p><p>“I had a job to finish,” he replies. “Seriously, you’re okay? Don’t need anything?”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re okay,” his mother soothes, turning to face him.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you up to for the rest of today, then? Or are you headed back to bed?” Tern’s voice is laced with derision, but he chooses to ignore it.</p><p> </p><p>“No, I’m gonna go over to Taeyong’s in a few. Johnny and Jisung should be joining us.”</p><p> </p><p>“Tell Johnny I say hi,” Tern says. Ten swats her.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s too old for you,” Ten admonishes, though he knows it’s all jokes. <em> Too old for you, </em> and <em> a camboy. Not sure how you’d feel about that one, Tern. </em></p><p> </p><p>Once he’s satisfied his mom is fine, and feels he’s done his duty as older brother of harassing Tern, he bids them goodbye and crosses the vast, unkempt lawn to Taeyong’s trailer. The one his parents share is a few yards away. His dad is outside, cleaning the windowsill.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi, Mr. Lee,” he calls to him, waving. The man turns, and grins when he sees him.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello!” He waves back. “Taeyong’s probably still asleep.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I’m here to change that,” Ten says. He pulls his keys out of his pocket and finds the one to Taeyong’s trailer—given to him a year after they started dating, when they were still in school. He’s had it ever since. </p><p> </p><p>The door to Taeyong’s bedroom is ajar. Ten slips his shoes off and starts the kettle boiling on the stove before sidling into the room. He pauses, taking a moment to admire Taeyong’s features—his black hair, a little long now, swept back over the pillow, the pretty curve of his lips—before he sits down on the edge of the bed, placing a hand on Taeyong’s shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>Taeyong startles a little, blinking his eyes open, relaxing when they land on Ten.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, baby,” Ten says softly, and Taeyong smiles. </p><p> </p><p>“Hi,” he squeaks, rolling onto his back and stretching his arms up above his head, yawning. He’s so cute when he stretches, and Ten leans in, slinging an arm over Taeyong’s waist and nosing at his neck, jaw resting on his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“You smell good,” he murmurs.</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks,” Taeyong giggles, wrapping his arms around Ten. “You look tired.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mm,” Ten replies. “I had to get up a little early today for work.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wanna nap?”</p><p> </p><p>“What, now? No, we’re having company over in an hour,” Ten reminds him, adding when he can feel Taeyong opening his mouth, “No, don’t tempt me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Stay tonight, then,” Taeyong insists. “Neither of us have to get up terribly early tomorrow. I know you don’t sleep well when you’re alone.”</p><p> </p><p>Ten sits back a little, and Taeyong brings a hand up to his face, cool pads of his thumbs tracing the dark circles under Ten’s eyes. “Okay,” Ten agrees.</p><p> </p><p>“Did you eat?” Taeyong asks, nudging him so they can both stand.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, yes,” Ten says. “Had coffee too. I’m all good.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, I have a surprise.” Taeyong goes rummaging through his fridge and produces a bowl of small, bright red berries.</p><p> </p><p>“How—are those <em> strawberries </em>?” Ten asks, dropping his voice to a whisper. “I thought they were a summer fruit.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mark figured out how to get them to grow. They’re the wild kind, not the modified ones, but I like them just as well,” Taeyong says, offering Ten the bowl. “They’re not as juicy, but they’re twice as sweet.”</p><p> </p><p>Mark, though from a lower-middle class family, was able to afford higher education through a sponsor. They’d seen his performance throughout school, and had decided he was worth supporting. He’s now studying botany, and he’s clearly incredible at it.</p><p> </p><p>Ten takes one and crushes it against the roof of his mouth with his tongue experimentally. It’s very soft, but refreshing and sweet. “How did Mark smuggle these out?” he asks.</p><p> </p><p>“He just reported half the yield,” Taeyong explains. “They didn’t expect him to get even one plant to produce. So he’ll definitely get extra credit as it is. He portioned them out for all our friends. I got a double portion to share with you. He didn’t want to bother you last night ‘cuz I told him you had to get up at dawn.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks,” Ten says, taking another strawberry. “This is crazy, though. I hope he doesn’t get in trouble.”</p><p> </p><p>Taeyong nods, shrugging. “Well, you know Mark. Even if they caught him, I doubt they’d really do much. They value his brain a lot.”</p><p> </p><p>Ten sits with Taeyong as he works his way through his breakfast and his tea. They both pick at the strawberries until they’re gone, and then Ten gets up to start the dishes. They’re just drying everything when there’s a knock on the door.</p><p> </p><p>Taeyong peeks through the peephole and then opens the door. Johnny and Jisung are standing side by side. Ten suddenly feels very short. He’s used to it, though; he skips over and gives first Johnny, and then Jisung a big hug.</p><p> </p><p>They settle into Taeyong’s now-sunlit kitchen, and Taeyong pours some tea for everyone. Ten watches lazily. He loves days like these—where his work is easy, and finished quickly, and he can settle back into a chair with a few of his friends and forget that the world is terrible.</p><p> </p><p>The forgetting doesn’t last long. Jisung asks Taeyong about his work, and Taeyong’s face immediately darkens, worry casting long shadows over his sweet features. It’s strange, because all Taeyong does is collect live specimens—usually bugs, since none of the other runners like to deal with them—and deliver them to a scientist who works for the government.</p><p> </p><p>“What is it?” Ten asks softly.</p><p> </p><p>“When I made a delivery yesterday,” he begins, wrapping his hands tightly around his mug. “Another runner was there, too. I happened to catch a glance of the inside of the bag—because they were checking, you know—and I really… I could’ve <em> sworn </em> it was human parts they were dropping off. Parts from a <em> child</em>—they were too small to be from an adult.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t fucking say that—” Jisung hisses.</p><p> </p><p>“It could have just been from a scrapped mini-droid—” Johnny starts saying at the same time.</p><p> </p><p>“—they might hear—”</p><p> </p><p>“—remember the Thumbelina line?”</p><p> </p><p>The kitchen is still for a moment. Taeyong shakes his head slowly, lowering his voice further. “It was too big to be from a Thumbelina.”</p><p> </p><p>“Did anyone notice that you saw?” Jisung asks quickly.</p><p> </p><p>“No, I looked away immediately. I was scared,” Taeyong replies.</p><p> </p><p>“Good,” Jisung says. </p><p> </p><p>Ten has to say he agrees with Jisung. It’s no joke, seeing something you weren’t supposed to. It’s not like he has confirmation, but Ten does know that Johnny’s dad wasn’t a criminal, and loved his family—and now he’s gone. The same thing happened to Jisung’s mom when he was a kid, a few months after his dad got kicked out of the inner circle of doctors and was stripped of his license to practice. Jisung has every right to be afraid. </p><p> </p><p>“You should be careful,” he tells Taeyong. “And don’t mention it to anybody else.”</p><p> </p><p>Taeyong nods. “D-do you really think it’s something serious?”</p><p> </p><p>Jisung shrugs. “Maybe. Maybe not. But if it is, you’ll be happy you kept your mouth shut.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, come on, Jisung, maybe he should ask about it. Maybe the guy is actually sketchy,” Johnny says. “It wouldn’t be safe for Taeyong to keep doing business with him.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, because if he is sketchy, Taeyong wouldn’t be safer letting him know that he knows,” Jisung argues. “They’d get rid of him. Just like with my mom. Just like with your dad.”</p><p> </p><p>Ten winces as Johnny glares. “Your mom died in a freak accident from a malfunctioning car,” Johnny says tightly. “And my dad has only been gone for a couple of weeks. Anything could’ve happened. I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.”</p><p> </p><p>“We never saw her body,” Jisung says. “I think she knew something. And you dad probably knew something too! It’s a good thing you don’t know what it was, or you’d be locked up with him! I don’t want the same thing to happen to Taeyong.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why would you say that?” Johnny asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, enough.” Ten slaps his palm lightly against the table. Both of them deflate immediately. “I get it, I really do. Jisung, you’re right. Taeyong should keep an eye out, and not tell anybody else. He definitely shouldn’t go asking about it. Johnny, you’re also right. We need to stay optimistic. Maybe we are just being paranoid. Maybe it’s just a coincidence. Let’s not fight about it when we’re on the same side.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, Jisung,” Johnny says, reaching an arm out. Jisung leans into him, and Ten smiles a little to himself. “I’m just stressed. I don’t want to believe something terrible has happened to my dad.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” Jisung says softly. “I’m sorry, too. It’s not fair of me to draw parallels between your dad and my mom.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ooh, I taught you guys so well,” Taeyong says, standing to add more water to the kettle. “We may be poor, but at least we’re kind.”</p><p> </p><p>“If only kindness paid the bills,” Ten says wistfully, leaning back in his chair and staring at the ceiling. </p><p> </p><p>Jisung flicks a balled up tea bag wrapper at him; it bounces harmlessly off his chest. “If it did, you’d still be broke,” he says, and Johnny and Taeyong laugh. </p><p> </p><p>&gt;&gt;&gt;:&lt;&lt;&lt;</p><p> </p><p>When Ten wakes up the next morning, Taeyong is already sitting up beside him, absently biting his nails, his eyes far away. Ten coaxes his hands out of his mouth, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.</p><p> </p><p>“You okay?” he asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Just… worried for Johnny,” Taeyong murmurs. “Worried for all of us. I… I always thought, you know, if we work hard enough, we’ll be able to make something better for ourselves. And it’s not that this is—bad, but—it should be better, right? I shouldn’t be afraid because I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. And you—you should be dancing. It’s not fair at all.”</p><p> </p><p>Ten sighs, putting his head in Taeyong’s lap and running his fingers up and down his arms. “I know,” he says softly. It hurts, because he does know. And Taeyong’s right. They had been such hopeful children, and had been completely blindsided by adulthood. Ten isn’t sure he’ll ever catch his breath. “But it’s all we’ve got. There’s nothing else out there.”</p><p> </p><p>Taeyong’s expression takes on a strange quality. “We don’t know that,” he says slowly. “Maybe there is.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hi! thank u for reading! come bother me on my <a href="https://kjmsupremacist.tumblr.com/about">tumblr</a> and feel free to check out my other works! additionally, i just completed a long work and i want to know what people would be most interested in reading next! you can take my survey <a href="https://forms.gle/Tkv7ec2M9BzrArp87">here</a>! i'd really appreciate it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s a slow day at the station. The city is getting used to shorter days, and the cold is making people sluggish. Jaehyun doesn’t mind. He’s happy to have the break. He fiddles with the badge on his lapel absently as he scrolls through some old reports, more for his own entertainment than anything else, reveling in the quiet.</p><p> </p><p>The phone rings.</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun sighs, swiping the reports off his screen and tapping the ACCEPT CALL button, adjusting his earpiece. “NeoCity Police Department, Auxiliary, how can I help you?”</p><p> </p><p>The voice on the other end sounds frantic. “Please.” It’s a young man. “Please, you have to come. I’ve just come home from work, and m-my wife—she’s <em> dead</em>.” </p><p> </p><p><em> Oh, fuck</em>. “I’m on my way,” Jaehyun says, standing. <em> So much for slow and quiet. </em> “Please stay where you are.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” the man agrees. “I-I’m outside, on my porch.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be there soon.” Jaehyun disconnects the call, and taps his cell to the desk to download the address. He hops into the first car in the lot, connecting his phone to the dashboard, and the car takes to the air, pulling away from the station.</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun peers through the windshield. The address is in the suburbs, affordable housing for middle-class families. <em> Choi Jeonghun and Eunji. </em> Luckily, it’s in a completely different sector from his parents’ house. He’ll have to tell them about it, of course—his father is an officer too, after all—but at least they’re a little removed from the danger.</p><p> </p><p>The car starts its descent, and Jaehyun sees a house come into view, and pacing on the porch, a young man. He looks like he’s only a few years older than Jaehyun.</p><p> </p><p>He looks up as the car touches down, shifting from foot to foot as he waits for Jaehyun to get out and make his way up to the door. “I’m Officer 7136,” Jaehyun introduces when he’s within earshot. “You can call me Jaehyun. Are you Choi Jeonghun?” The man nods. “Could you please show me the body?”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghun nods again, wordlessly, letting him into his home. Jaehyun smells the stench of blood, and sees it almost immediately—she’s in the center of the living room, which is just off the entrance. She’s splayed out on her back, in a pool of drying blood. He can see darkened spots on her torso—likely a stabbing, as well as signs of trauma on her face and arms. A chunk of her hair is missing, leaving a bloody bald patch.</p><p> </p><p>He whistles, summoning the drone that comes with the car. It whirs in the front door. “Pictures all over, please,” he instructs it, pulling two projectors out of his pocket and sticking them to the entrance to the living room. They beep to life and create a short, thin barrier. The words <em> POLICE LINE: DO NOT CROSS </em> scroll by, blue in the white light of the background.</p><p> </p><p>He taps his earpiece twice. “Dispatch,” a voice responds in his ear.</p><p> </p><p>“Can I get backup here? We have a death—a murder, by the look of it,” Jaehyun says. “I took vehicle AC2, it’s at the location.”</p><p> </p><p>“Received.”</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun taps his earpiece off, and turns to Jeonghun, who is standing a few meters behind him. “Sorry about that. Let’s go back outside while my drone finishes up.” He leads them back out of the house. “I know it’s difficult, and this must be a source of great shock. But I need you to tell me everything you can.”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghun swallows, nodding. “Um, I went to work this morning. I leave around 08.30, usually. I work in a parts factory, for—for UltraViolet.” <em> UltraViolet Beauty, the mod design company. </em> “I usually take my lunch there. I came home tonight at around 17.15—I got off a little early today. I walked in and saw her, and called right away.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay. And do you have any idea who could be responsible? Anywhere your wife liked to spend a lot of time, anyone you can think of that she was in contact with?” Jeonghun hesitates, expression unreadable, and then shakes his head. “Okay, well, the other team should be here soon. We’ll wrap this up as quickly as we can. They may want to bring you into the station.”</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun hears the dull hum of engines, and pokes his head out from the overhang of the porch. He’s expecting one or two more cars, probably with his dad, or maybe Kunhang’s mom or sister, or else one of his other regular coworkers. Instead, he’s greeted by a fleet of cars, sleek ones from the inner city. Jaehyun can only stare as a few officers approach him.</p><p> </p><p>Two move to flank Jeonghun, while the other pulls Jaehyun aside. “Thank you for the call,” she says. Her voice is cool, measured, even. “We’ll take it from here. You’re dismissed.”</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun finds his voice right as she turns away. “I’m sorry,” he says, “but this address is under the auxiliary department’s jurisdiction. Why are you here?”</p><p> </p><p>She jerks her head back to Jeonghun, who’s been handcuffed. “He murdered his wife,” she explains softly. “Cases this serious are always passed on to us. He’s been acting suspiciously for the past couple of weeks, and we’ve had our eye on him. It’s really too bad we didn’t intervene sooner, but we didn’t have anything on him.” She shakes her head. “Anyway, we’ll handle it now. You head on back to the station.”</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun blinks, watching her walk away. Something doesn’t feel quite right, but he can’t pinpoint what. Unable to come up with a reason to stay, he reluctantly heads back to the car. The drone is already waiting for him. He sighs, and gets in, programming to take him back to the office.</p><p> </p><p>&gt;&gt;&gt;:&lt;&lt;&lt;</p><p> </p><p>He stays late that evening. It’s not that he doesn’t believe the officers that showed up, but it all feels wrong. Jeonghun didn’t seem like a man who was trying to get away with murder. He seemed scared, shocked, and sad. </p><p> </p><p>So, Jaehyun does some research. He looks Jeonghun up in their records—nothing; no involvement in any past cases. He finds security footage from the camera at the corner of the street Jeonghun and Eunji lived on. He selects the day, and settles back to watch. 07.30, the lights in the house come on. 08.40, Jeonghun leaves and hurries down the street to catch his train. 11.52, Eunji comes out the front door and heads down the street; 12.39, she returns with groceries. At around 15.18, he sees her through the window of the living room—the room her body was in, and then after a while she disappears from view. There’s no activity, and then Jeonghun comes home at 17.21 and goes in the front door. Jaehyun leans forward, watching the time. Less than a minute later, Jeonghun stumbles back out of the front door, screaming and fumbling for his phone. He paces on the porch until Jaehyun arrives at the scene.</p><p> </p><p><em> There’s no way he killed her,</em> Jaehyun thinks to himself. <em> He was only in the house for a minute. She had so many stab wounds. And he would’ve been covered in blood. It’s possible that he entered through the back of the house, earlier in the day…  </em></p><p> </p><p>He needs to check the security cameras at UltraViolet, to see if Jeonghun was missing in the window of time that Eunji was killed. He doesn’t have clearance, though, as a very new officer. He glances at the clock. Maybe a lieutenant or a captain is still around.</p><p> </p><p>As if reading his mind, Captain 52, Kim Seojoon, comes around the corner. “I’m gonna head home,” he says. “Are you staying much later?”</p><p> </p><p>“I am,” Jaehyun says. “I’m doing some research. There was a murder today.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, right.” Captain Kim comes up beside him. “It was pretty nasty, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Bloody, but not so bad,” Jaehyun says. “I need access to security footage from UltraViolet’s Building 07. I want to see where the suspect was during the day. Could you…?”</p><p> </p><p>“Isn’t the main division handling this one?”</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun winces a little. “Um, yeah, but I just—I want to see. I talked to him, you know, and I just—I want to know. I’m sure they’ll be able to solve it and all. Just for myself, though.”</p><p> </p><p>Luckily, Captain Kim seems to understand. “Sure, sure,” he says, leaning over and pressing his badge to the desk. He swipes through a few options and then pulls the footage up for Jaehyun. “Just today?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Jaehyun says, “thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll just clear you to access today’s whenever you want.” He goes to the security settings. “It’ll only work for this span of 24 hours of footage, but that way you won’t have to keep getting someone to log back in.”</p><p> </p><p>“Great, thank you so much.”</p><p> </p><p>“No problem. Okay, you should be all set.” Captain Kim stands. “Don’t stay too late. I’m going now. Make sure to lock up when you leave.”</p><p> </p><p>“Will do. Have a great night.”</p><p> </p><p>“You too.”</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun waits until he hears the doors open and close before he turns back to the footage. It takes some scrolling, but then Jeonghun shows up at 09.01, and Jaehyun sets the cameras to follow him throughout his day. He’s almost always on camera, except when he goes towards the bathrooms. He’s never off camera for more than five or ten minutes, and since his work is a fifteen to twenty minute train ride from his home, there’s no way he could’ve gone home, snuck in the back, and killed Eunji. What’s more, Jeonghun is at his station from around 15.00 onward, until 16.56 when he clocks out and leaves. There’s a train at 17.00 exactly that takes him back to his house, but even under the best conditions, that would only give him five minutes to walk home from the stop, sneak in the back, kill her, shower and change, sneak out, and then come back around the front. It’s just not possible.</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun tries to find security cameras that show the back of the house, but has no luck. He has to assume that’s how the killer entered, whoever they are. But he’s becoming more and more convinced that there’s simply no way it can be Jeonghun.</p><p> </p><p>He sighs, long and heavy. It’s almost 0.00; he needs to go home and sleep. He can follow up in the morning. </p><p> </p><p>&gt;&gt;&gt;:&lt;&lt;&lt;</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun has the morning off, so he goes to the main office downtown to ask about the case. He reviews what he knows as he sits on the train. Based on the security footage, Jeonghun didn’t have an opportunity to kill his wife. He wants to know what they had on him that made him suspicious in the first place. He’s also kind of hoping he’ll get to speak with Jeonghun, if they still have him in custody.</p><p> </p><p>He scans into the main building and is greeted by a human-emulator droid. “Officer 7136. What brings you in today?”</p><p> </p><p>“The murder from yesterday, I’d like to speak to the officer in charge of it,” he says. “Can you tell me where her office is?”</p><p> </p><p>“8th floor. The whole floor is her unit,” the droid tells him.</p><p> </p><p>“Great, thank you.” Jaehyun fidgets with his sleeves anxiously as he waits for the elevator, and the whole ride up.</p><p> </p><p>The officer from yesterday is waiting for him outside the elevator; he’s guessing the droid notified her that he was on his way. “Officer 7136.” She smiles, but her eyes remain cold. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Deputy 24. I heard you have a few questions regarding yesterday’s case. Would you care to step into my office for a moment?”</p><p> </p><p>“Certainly.” Jaehyun follows her down the row of desks. He feels eyes on his back as he walks, but he doesn’t turn to look.</p><p> </p><p>Deputy 24 holds the door open for him with that same polite, empty smile, and then closes it behind them and obscures the windows with a wave of her hand. “I just need to make sure you don’t have any recording devices on your person,” she says, snapping her fingers. A small drone detaches itself from its charging dock on her desk, and whizzes around Jaehyun, making steady beeping noises. Eventually, it must be satisfied, because it flies back to its dock and powers down. “Perfect. Please, Officer, have a seat.” She gestures to the chair by her desk; she takes a seat in her own chair and boots up her computer. “Now, what was it you were curious about?”</p><p> </p><p>“I checked over some security footage yesterday,” Jaehyun says. “I don’t think it was possible for Jeonghun—Mr. Choi—to have killed his wife. Captain 52 gave me access to the tapes for Choi’s place of work yesterday, and there was no time where he was off-camera long enough to have done it.”</p><p> </p><p>Deputy 24 just nods and swivels her screen around. Jaehyun recognizes the scene immediately—on one side is the grid of cameras from UltraViolet; on the other is the footage from the house. “Look at the time,” she says. “15.18, Choi’s wife is seen in the window, alive. Now watch.” Jaehyun flicks his eyes over the screen, not really sure what he should be looking for. There’s a little glitch in the film suddenly, almost like the cameras were blinking, and then they go back to normal. Deputy 24 pauses the footage. “Check the time again,” she says, pointing. <em> 16.39, </em> Jaehyun reads. Confused, he gives her a blank look. “Let’s go back. I’ll slow it down. Watch the time.” She plays it back. The blink glitch happens again, more obviously this time with the decreased speed, and Jaehyun sees the time jump from 15.26 to 16.39. </p><p> </p><p>“But that—” Jaehyun shakes his head. He’s <em> sure </em> he didn’t see it last night; he went over the 15.00-17.00 window multiple times just to be sure; slowed to check for anomalies. He hadn’t seen anything.</p><p> </p><p>“I know what you think you saw.” Deputy 24’s voice is cool, gentle and almost patronizing. “It’s easy to miss, especially late at night when you’ve already had such a long day. I’m not surprised you walked away from your research confused. But it looks like he, or someone he employed, caused what we call a localized blackout. He got all the cameras at his work to shut off, as well as any cameras that could track his progress, and then left. We did some unscrambling with the ticket machines for the subway, and it looks like his ticket was scanned for the 15.30 train.” She pulls up a new screen, showing a list of times. <em> 08.42… 15.30… 16.13... 17.00.  </em></p><p> </p><p>“So… he left work at 15.30, went home, killed her, cleaned up, and came back on the 16.13 train without anybody noticing?” Jaehyun asks.</p><p> </p><p>“We have a few witness statements from his coworkers,” Deputy 24 says. “None of them recall seeing him between 15.30 and 16.30 yesterday. And neighbors say they didn’t see anyone else in the neighborhood yesterday as well.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then what was his motive?” Jaehyun asks, maybe a little too aggressively. “Sorry, I just—I want to understand.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” Deputy 24 soothes. “It’s completely natural. You’re an officer, you’re interested in law and order.” She pulls another window up—a screenshot of a signed life insurance policy. “Choi took a life insurance policy out on his wife about a week and a half ago,” she says. “Five hundred thousand units. Why would he? They were both young, and in perfect health.”</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun is silent, turning it over in his head. It’s possible he simply saw wrong last night, but it just all seems too convenient to be real. “Okay,” he says slowly. “Then, can I see Jeonghun? Speak with him? Just for a few minutes.”</p><p> </p><p>Deputy 24 turns her screen back around, shaking her head. “Unfortunately, we can’t do that. He’s been talking nonsense ever since we brought him in last night. He’s in a very unstable condition. I’m afraid it wouldn’t be productive at all. We have doctors tending to him now. I’m hoping we can get him lucid before his trial, but if not, he’ll receive the best care. As you know, our justice system is not about punishment but about rehabilitation.”</p><p> </p><p>“But—has he confessed?” Jaehyun presses.</p><p> </p><p>“No, of course not,” Deputy 24 replies. “He’s not in his right mind.” She turns to fix Jaehyun with her cold gaze. “I know it may seem out of the blue. To an outside, untrained eye, it may seem like… a sudden, mysterious disappearance.” She cocks her head. “I’m sure you catch my drift. But sometimes, it happens. The best thing every citizen of NeoCity can do for themselves is to keep their head down and work hard. That’s how we’ve survived this long. Right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Right,” Jaehyun says, feeling chilled. <em> She’s talking about Johnny’s dad</em>, he realizes. <em> And—potentially me. </em> “Well, thank you very much for your time. I’m glad we were able to clear this up. I won’t keep you from your work. My shift starts soon, anyway.”</p><p> </p><p>He stands, and she stands too. “I’m glad I was able to answer your questions.” She goes to the door, puts her hand on the doorknob, and then stops. “And, Officer. This is an ongoing investigation, so I’m sure I don’t need to remind you not to repeat any of the contents of this conversation to anybody. Do you understand me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Perfectly, Deputy,” Jaehyun replies, and she opens the door and gestures him out. “Have a good day.”</p><p> </p><p>“You too.”</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun can’t get out of the building fast enough. Some small, panicked corner of his mind is sure there will be guards sent to arrest him, strip him of his badge, and lock him up. But he boards his train with no problems. The city is going about its life as usual. </p><p> </p><p><em> She was lying</em>, he thinks, fuming. <em> I know the footage was complete last night. Damn! Why didn’t I record it, compile a copy of the tapes? I’m so fucking stupid. </em> He sighs, watching the skyscrapers of downtown fade from view out the window. <em> Or… fuck. Maybe she’s right. It was late; I was tired. Maybe I just missed it. Maybe I just wanted him to be innocent because he seemed kind, and I don’t like being wrong. </em></p><p> </p><p>But her veiled threat hangs heavy in his mind. <em> A sudden, mysterious disappearance. I’m sure you catch my drift. </em>He thinks about Johnny’s dad—the perfect father, the perfect husband. Kind eyes, warm smile, hardworking. A family man, through and through. And then suddenly—gone. Jaehyun had been barred from joining the investigation team because they were worried his close relationship with Johnny would stop him from being impartial, and impede his work. They might be right, but now Jaehyun can’t help but wonder if it’s because there’s something they don’t want him to see.</p><p> </p><p>He walks into the station feeling lost. The fog of worry is so thick he barely registers it when one of the other officers calls to him.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Jung!” He snaps his head up. “Are these prints yours? There’s a huge stack of them on the printer, and they’re in the way.”</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun sees the photos his drone took yesterday at the scene, printed in a neat stack. “Oh, shit, yeah, sorry,” he says, crossing the room to grab them. “I was here so late last night. I forgot I printed these. Thanks.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, no problem.”</p><p> </p><p>He wanders back to his desk, sifting through them. He lingers on photos of the bare patch of her scalp. <em> Why would the killer rip out a piece of her hair? As a trophy? </em> He shakes his head, sitting heavily in his seat. The next few photos are of her face. Her eyes are rolled back in her head; he can barely see her irises. He puts these pictures aside quickly. The next picture catches his attention.</p><p> </p><p>It’s of her left hand. It’s streaked with dried blood, but in it is a clean, slightly crumpled piece of paper. It’s small, so Jaehyun quickly pulls the photo up in his files, zooming in on the paper. It was clearly placed there <em> after </em> she was dead, because there’s no blood, even though her skin is covered in it. He zooms closer. The text on the paper is blurry, but after a moment he thinks he knows what it says.</p><p> </p><p><em> Quite the shame, indeed</em>. </p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun glances over his shoulder; no one’s watching his screen. Quickly, he captures the zoomed-in photo, and sends it to his home printer, and then closes out of the window. He stacks the printed drone pictures again, and puts them in a folder, and then slips them into his bag. He can’t call in sick now; it’ll look too suspicious. He’ll have to wait until his shift is over at 21.00, and then he needs to contact someone who can sneak him into the holding cells. </p><p> </p><p>That message, it was left for Jeonghun to find. He’s the only one who’ll be able to tell him what it means. Jaehyun is sure of it. He’s also pretty sure Jeonghun didn’t see it, which means it’s up to Jaehyun to deliver it to him. Besides, if the man hasn’t gone insane like Deputy 24 claimed, that alone will tell Jaehyun everything he needs to know.</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun looks at the clock. 13.08. He taps his heel nervously. He’s got a long way to go.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He calls Jungwoo as soon as he’s done for the day. “Are you free? I need to ask you something in person.”</p><p> </p><p>“Uh, yes,” Jungwoo says. “Where?”</p><p> </p><p>“Will you meet me in the big park, by the pond, in thirty minutes?” Jaehyun asks. He wonders vaguely if he’s been bugged, but he doesn’t remember touching anybody today. Still, he adds, “And bring that scanner.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure.”</p><p> </p><p>“Great, thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun hurries to the nearby station and hops on the monorail. The park feels more correct for this sort of meeting—this isn’t something to be spoken of in the warm light of a kitchen. The cool night air by the pond is much more fitting. He’s also hoping the quiet trickle of the artificial waterfall would mask their voices.</p><p> </p><p>Jungwoo is already there when Jaehyun arrives; he’d expected it, since Jungwoo’s apartment is so close to the edge of the park. He’s sitting on the bench near the waterfall, one leg crossed over the other, barely visible in the dim light. He has a long, tailored coat on, and sleek business shoes. As he draws nearer, he sees he’s wearing leather gloves as well. He looks every bit his part—the smart, successful son of a billionaire CEO.</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun and Jungwoo’s paths would have never crossed, but Kun, who had lived just a few houses down from Jaehyun when they were younger, got a sponsor in their 9th year, and had transferred to the bigger school where all the rich kids went. Kun had made friends with Jungwoo early on, and had introduced him to their friends. Jungwoo had roped Doyoung, a now well-known singer, in, and so they all got to know Doyoung, too. Their group had expanded this way—Kun had been the first to receive sponsorship, then Mark a few years later, then Sungchan and Jisung, only months apart. Mark had introduced them to Jeno, an actor. Jisung introduced them to Chenle, the son of the CEO of Zhong Technologies, and Chenle had inserted Dejun, another singer and one of his good friends. </p><p> </p><p>Generally, relationships of all kinds don’t stray beyond class divides. Friendships aren’t common, but they also aren’t rare. What’s interesting is the romantic relationships in their large friend group. Of course, there’s Taeyong and Ten, both from poor families, who had been together since 11th year. Yuta, from a matchbox house, and Sicheng, from the lower-middle class suburbs, had been together longer, since around 9th year. And while Donghyuck and Taeil had only gotten together a couple of years ago, their relationship was solid. They’re also both from relatively similar economic backgrounds, so it isn’t as odd. </p><p> </p><p>Jungwoo, however, had fallen head over heels for Yukhei, and Yukhei had been no better. They’d danced circles around each other for years. It was as infuriating as it was endearing, so Jaehyun had been elated when Ten told him just last weekend that they finally talked about it. Jungwoo and Yukhei are about as opposite as two people can get when it comes to background, but they work somehow. And then, there’s Jeno and Jaemin. Jaemin’s parents died around a year ago, just a few weeks after Jaemin’s 19th birthday. Luckily, this meant he was able to keep the little stack unit his family had lived in since he was an adult, but it also left him with very diminished income. Jaehyun had always had a soft spot for Jaemin, so he’d taken care of him when he could. Jeno is from a rich, famous family, on the other hand. Though he and Jaemin haven’t made anything official yet—likely because of the stigma around class divides—all Jaehyun can say is Jaemin is very lucky to have him. He knows he can always go to Jeno’s place for a sleepover if his power shuts off, or he just doesn’t want to be alone. In any case, it takes some worry off of Jaehyun’s plate.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Woo,” Jaehyun says when he gets close. “Thank you for meeting me so late.”</p><p> </p><p>Jungwoo pats the spot next to him, giving him a warm smile. “It’s not that late,” he says. “And it’s no problem. Are you okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun sighs, sitting down next to him and putting his head in his hands. “Technically, yeah, I’m fine. Do you have the scanner?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, yes.” Jungwoo pulls a little black bot out of his pocket, clicking it on. It takes to the air, flitting around Jaehyun for a few minutes before chiming and returning to Jungwoo’s palm. “You’re clean. Why are we here?”</p><p> </p><p>“I need your help,” Jaehyun murmurs. “But what I’m about to tell you will probably put you in danger. You can say no.”</p><p> </p><p>“What’s going on?”</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun brings Jungwoo up to speed as quickly as he can, relaying the main points of the case. “And now I have a photo of a note left with the wife’s corpse. Something’s not right here, Woo, and I want to find out what. Can you get me into the holding cells? It shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes. I just need to see Choi.”</p><p> </p><p>Jungwoo leans back, blowing out a breath, watching the resulting fog float up into the sky. “It’s gonna be tough. The holding cells are no joke. It’s not enough just to pay off guards; I’m going to need to hack the cameras and then take out the guards in his sector, and then you’ll need to sneak in and out undetected.”</p><p> </p><p>“Can you do it?”</p><p> </p><p>Jungwoo nods. “I’ll need a little time. I won’t be ready until tomorrow evening at the earliest. You’ll have to go in alone; we can’t risk a bigger group.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s fine,” Jaehyun says. “What are we going to do about the guards?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to use bots,” Jungwoo says quietly. “They’re remote controlled. We have some stealth ones—my dad named them Spyders, because he’s lame—but they’re really small, and really strong. I can get a few to sneak in during the day, and then find the guards and put them out once the cameras are down. You’ll have about thirty minutes to get in, talk, and get out before the guards wake up.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Jaehyun agrees. “I’m sorry to put you in danger like this. I just didn’t know what else to do.”</p><p> </p><p>Jungwoo shrugs. “If you’re right, then we’re all going to be in danger soon, I think,” he says. It makes Jaehyun shiver. He had considered that, of course, but it’s different to hear it from someone else. “Besides, it’s kind of exciting.”</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun just shakes his head. “Yeah, okay. Tomorrow, then?”</p><p> </p><p>Jungwoo nods. “Just meet me by the holding cells. I’ll be doing it all remotely in the 24-hour cafe that’s across the street, but I’ll help you get in the back door. Make sure to wear something to cover your face, and come on foot. If you can find a place between security cameras where you can change your whole look, all the better. Just in case. I can wipe the footage once we’re done, and back in our homes, but I can’t risk tampering with security cameras beforehand, because it’s more likely we’ll get caught.”</p><p> </p><p>“Noted,” Jaehyun replies. “I have tomorrow off—so it shouldn’t be too difficult.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay.” Jungwoo stands. “I better get to work. Let’s plan for tomorrow around 22.00. That okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“That should be fine.” Jaehyun stands too. “Thank you again.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry about it.” Jungwoo moves to turn away, and then stops. “Who else have you told?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nobody,” Jaehyun says quietly.</p><p> </p><p>“Good. Keep it that way.” And with that terribly cryptic response, Jungwoo strides off into the night.</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun blows out a breath, surveying the reflection of the lights on the other side of the pond. The night is still; though the park is relatively near the heart of the city, it’s far enough removed that the noise of the nightlife is distant and faint, almost imperceptible. Jaehyun blows out a breath. He knows how much danger he’s just put Jungwoo in by telling him alone, never mind asking him to help him break into the holding cells. But it’s a relief to have told somebody all the same. The information doesn’t sit so heavy on his chest.</p><p> </p><p>He makes his slow way back to the train stop. His place is a short ride away, and when he finally steps into his apartment, he finds he’s exhausted. Even the fear for tomorrow and his swirling confusion about the murder case can’t keep him from sleep. He showers, and then curls up in bed. He’s asleep within minutes.</p><p> </p><p>&gt;&gt;&gt;:&lt;&lt;&lt;</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun has to admit to himself that in all his teenage fantasies of being the hero in some action-adventure movie, this was never quite what he’d pictured. For starters, he’d always imagined himself with a big team (usually his other friends), not with just one friend and a small army of droids. Second, and probably more importantly, he had always imagined himself perhaps a bit nervous, but overall unafraid and completely prepared.</p><p> </p><p>But the fact is, Jaehyun is scared. He has no idea what he’s going to find—Jeonghun, alive and well? Or mentally unfit, as Deputy 24 had claimed? Or missing? If Jeonghun is lucid, what will he tell Jaehyun? What will that information do to him?</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun looks at his badge resting on his nightstand. Regardless of what happens, once he gets his answers, he’ll have to turn it in. If he’s wrong, and he’s been making a huge fuss about nothing, he’s a liability and it would be irresponsible for him to continue as an officer. If he’s right, he knows he can’t work another day for an organization that doesn’t treat people well and doesn’t uphold justice the way it’s supposed to.</p><p> </p><p>He takes a breath. He’s already stashed a change of clothes, as well as a box of matches and some gasoline, about halfway to the city. He’ll be out of view of any security cameras that he’s aware of, so if anybody happens to be watching, it won’t be Jaehyun they’re tracking. He has a mask that covers everything below his eyes, and Jungwoo lent him goggles with special curvature to prevent facial recognition technology from identifying him. He’ll be okay, he thinks.</p><p> </p><p>He glances at the clock. 20.48. It’s about a 45-minute walk to the city from his apartment, and he needs to make sure he has enough time to change. He has to go. Jaehyun turns and looks at himself in the mirror. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admits softly to his reflection.</p><p> </p><p>He does one last sweep to make sure he has everything he needs—a timer, a pen, and a bottle of water for Jeonghun—and he heads out the door and into the gathering darkness.</p><p> </p><p>He ducks down an alley and finds his change of clothes where he left them earlier that day. It’s a little cold, so changing is mildly uncomfortable, but it goes smoothly. He crams his original outfit back between the stacks of discarded pallets, and continues on his way.</p><p> </p><p>Jungwoo is outside the cafe when Jaehyun finally arrives, typing away on his tablet. He spares Jaehyun a glance when he gets closer, flicking his eyes to the table a few meters away. Jaehyun sits and pretends to watch the group of kids across the street. The sky is fully dark now, but the city is bright and alive—Jaehyun can hear the noise of the nightlife district, even from here, and old and new advertisements spanning the entire length of buildings flash as they move, discordant and dizzying. The neon glow of shop signs, streetlights, and the vehicles passing above pervade all but the darkest corners. The street shines in the night. Even though NeoCity is only a shadow of its former self, Jaehyun finds himself captivated, time and time again, by its strange, hollow beauty.</p><p> </p><p>Jungwoo stands, he sees from the corner of his eye, and heads off towards the police buildings. Jaehyun gives it a minute, and then follows. He tails Jungwoo as he weaves around people, droids, and buildings, always quite far behind him, but still keeping him in sight.</p><p> </p><p>Eventually, Jungwoo leads him around the back of the large police center, the one with all the holding cells. Jaehyun risks a look up at the camera he knows guards the back alley as he rounds the corner, but the telltale red light is off. Jungwoo is standing at the service entrance, tablet out again, fingers poised over the keys.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello,” he says. Jaehyun sees the familiar cheerful spark of his eyes under the hood of his sweatshirt when he turns to face him. “I just cut the cameras and unleashed the droids. Here.” He points to the screen. “Each of the bots has a little bodycam I can watch from. See? Sector doors are locked and disabled. Everyone around is getting put to sleep—there goes another,” he points out mildly as one of the bots appears to go crashing to the ground when one of its victims collapses. “Just a few more, and I’ll open this door for you. Remember, you have to be out in thirty minutes, so whatever you need from this guy—get it fast.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I will,” Jaehyun murmurs, holding up the little timer he’d brought with him. “I’m setting it to 25 minutes, starting now.” He clicks it and puts it back in his pocket.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, you’re good to go.” Jungwoo presses a couple of keys, and the door in front of them whirs open. Light spills out onto the darkened street. “Good luck. I’ll be elsewhere, watching out for you—but I won’t be nearby, remember that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. Thank you.” Jaehyun ducks inside, closing the door quietly behind him. The clinical, fluorescent lights feel almost haunting for some reason—or maybe it’s the eerie stillness. </p><p> </p><p>Luckily, Jeonghun is being held in relative isolation—he sees the guards come and go, and he’s given plenty to do, of course—but he isn’t allowed to see other prisoners, officially due to his mental state. This means there is no one else to witness Jaehyun padding quickly down the hall, stepping over unconscious bodies as he goes, until he reaches the glass divider of Jeonghun’s cell.</p><p> </p><p>Understandably, Jeonghun is pressed to the glass, trying to see what’s going on. When Jaehyun comes into his field of vision, he jumps away, fear overcoming the confusion on his face.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” Jaehyun says. “Hey, I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here—I’m here for answers. Can you try your best to give them to me?”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghun approaches the glass cautiously. “Haven’t you heard?” he asks. His tone is dry. “I’m clinically insane.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t believe that for a moment,” Jaehyun says. “I also don’t think you killed your wife. Something is going on here, and I want to know what.”</p><p> </p><p>“Who are you?” Jeonghun asks.</p><p> </p><p>“I—I can’t tell you that,” Jaehyun says, tapping his mask. “Both for your safety and mine. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I need you to trust me. I came across a message I believe was intended for you. I’m hoping you can help me understand what it means.”</p><p> </p><p>“Unless it’s about my release, I don’t think I want to hear it.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s about your wife,” Jaehyun says, and Jeonghun snaps his head up. “A note had been placed in her hand by the murderer. It said, ‘Quite the shame, indeed’. That’s all. Does it mean anything to you?”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghun is silent for several moments. Jaehyun is about to open his mouth to try and hurry him along, but then he begins to speak. “They told you I took out a life insurance policy on Eunji, right?” When Jaehyun nods, he continues. “Did they tell you she also took an identical one out on me, at the same time?” Jaehyun pauses, and shakes his head, expectant. “See, we were afraid something like this—“ he gestures around his cell “—would happen.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why?” Jaehyun asked.</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghun sighed. “I work—worked—at one of the factories for UltraViolet. I was just a high-level worker, overseeing the bots that do construction and stuff like that. I’d been there a few years, but—those buildings are so big, and such mazes. A couple of weeks ago, I took a wrong turn on my way to deliver a report, and walked in on something I don’t think I was meant to see.</p><p> </p><p>“There was a man leaving the janitor’s closet down the hall from where I was standing. He was in all black, and I only saw his eyes—and a strange tattoo he had on the back of his hand.” Jeonghun shakes his head. “I saw his hand because he was pocketing a wad of cash. It’s weird, because usually people just use units, right? And I can’t be sure, but in the sliver of the closet that I could see before the door shut, I could swear I saw the metal of the chairman’s forehead, leaned over an open case.”</p><p> </p><p>The chairman, meaning Kim Yeongsoo, the head of UltraViolet. He’s known for his excessive mods—not just on himself, but on his four daughters as well; he strengthens and supports his and their bodies with whatever he can get his hands on. It’s commonly accepted that this obsession began when his wife died giving birth to his youngest. It even changed the direction of his company—and probably for the better, since he’s incredibly successful. The one odd thing other than the infatuation with mods is that unlike most parents who owned a company, he didn’t allow any of his children to take part in business; not even his eldest, Yerim. </p><p> </p><p>“That would just be a little suspicious or strange, but that’s not all,” Jeonghun is continuing. “The chairman was looking into a case, and it really, really looked like there was a bloody human hand in it. I didn’t get a good look, so maybe I saw wrong, you know? That’s what I told myself as I turned and ran. I don’t know if the chairman saw me at the time, but my only thought was getting away before the tattooed man knew he had a witness.”</p><p> </p><p>“Can you draw the tattoo?” Jaehyun asks quickly. “On the glass?”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghun nods, and uses his breath to fog the glass. He starts drawing, and Jaehyun pulls out his pen and copies it onto his arm. It’s symmetrical; the shape of a half-sun, one section shaded in, over a few shorter lines. It looks like a minimalistic drawing of a sunrise or sunset over a large body of water. Jaehyun holds up his approximation when they’re done drawing, and Jeonghun nods and quickly wipes it away.</p><p> </p><p>“As you can imagine, later that day I was approached by some of the higher-ups,” Jeonghun says. “They brought me into a conference room, told me they had heard I might have thought I saw something that morning. They explained it was part of an investigation with the police, that a human-emulator droid had gotten into an accident, and needed special attention, which is why the chairman had been called in.” He shakes his head. “They told me… not to worry about it. They transferred a bonus into my account right then and there.” Jeonghun looks up at Jaehyun. “Nobody said anything outright, but the message was clear: keep quiet, and we’ll be happy to pay you a little extra for your discretion. If not…</p><p> </p><p>“I told Eunji about it when I got home. Maybe I shouldn’t have—maybe she’d still be alive if I hadn’t. But I didn’t know what to do. And I didn’t want to keep such a terrible secret from my best friend, you know? I wanted her to know, in case something happened to me, so she wouldn’t be left wondering.” Jeonghun’s eyes are far away, and bright with grief. “She said she’d do some research during the day. She worked from home as a research assistant for hire, so she was really good at it. After a couple of days, she unearthed an old, scrapped news article—about another man with a very similar tattoo, seen entering a corporate building with what looked like a body bag, and then later exiting with the body bag now full, and finally entering a different building belonging to the same corporation.”</p><p> </p><p>“Which corporation?” Jaehyun asks.</p><p> </p><p>“It was blacked out, the name,” Jeonghun says. “It was the censored version. We couldn’t find the original anywhere. And it really wouldn’t be such a big deal—like, maybe the reporter was exaggerating; there weren’t any pictures of the bag in question, you know. The only shot was a blurry one of the man’s tattoo, on the back of his neck. It looked like the one I just drew, but more of the sun—that half-circle—was filled in.” Jeonghun spreads his hands in front of him. “Even with the tattoo, I wouldn’t have been so interested, but Eunji also found that same week, one of the managers of that very corporation was reported deceased due to, quote, ‘complications from preexisting health issues’. At least, I assume it was from the same corporation just based on the language used around the blacked out parts, but I really don’t know.”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t know the manager's name, either?”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghun shakes his head. “No, nothing. Anyway, Eunji did some digging, and found out that this manager had been opposed to the direction the company was headed—there were some photos of minutes from various meetings, very censored again, but enough for her to kind of piece together what was going on. The article also mentioned that employees of this corporation had reported that things with the higher-up staff had been tense for a while, and they’d even heard raised voices from a few meetings that one manager had been a part of. Meetings that took place a few weeks leading up to their death.</p><p> </p><p>“She told me all of this after dinner, about a week and a half ago, and the next morning, we woke up to find an envelope stuck in our front door. Inside were a series of photos taken from different security cameras—of me in the hallway where I had seen that man; me on the subway on the way home; Eunji at the grocery store; even a shot of both of us on the couch in our living room, Eunji asleep on my shoulder. It came with a note, and the bottom right corner of the page had the tattoo design drawn on. The sun was completely filled in on this one, though.” Jeonghun pauses, taking a breath. “It said, ‘It’d be a shame, wouldn’t it?’”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” Jaehyun murmurs. <em> Quite the shame, indeed. </em></p><p> </p><p>“We thought it was a death threat, and we were right.” Jeonghun’s voice is bitter. “I took it to the police, and they said it was probably a prank done by some kids with too much time, though one officer said they’d consider gangs. They said they would look into it, and the origins of that design, and get back to me.</p><p> </p><p>“When I got home, Eunji confessed that for the past couple of days, when she was alone, she’d felt like someone was watching her. She said she was afraid something was going to happen to us. I told her we should be fine—the police were handling it now, and we had both electronic locks and deadbolts on our doors, so it would be really hard for someone to break in. She was insistent, though, and I’m glad she was.” Jeonghun rubs his forehead. “I changed all our locks, and added new ones, too; I even installed ones on the windows, and upgraded our security system so we’d get notifications about movement outside. It was expensive, but it seemed to reassure her a little bit. Still, she insisted we take out life insurance policies on each other. She said if one of us was killed, then the other would at least have some extra resources to use to protect themselves. I thought she was being a little paranoid, but I agreed.” Jeonghun leans back, taking a couple steps away from the glass, arms open wide and spinning in a slow circle. “And then, this happened.”</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun’s timer beeps in his pocket, startling him. “Sorry, that’s me. And that’s my time; I have to go before everyone wakes up.” Jeonghun gives him a worried look. “I know, I’m sorry. I promise, though, I will do whatever I can to find out the truth. You’ve been so incredibly helpful, and I want to thank you for what you’ve shared. I hope we can get to the bottom of this.”</p><p> </p><p>“I hope you’re telling the truth,” Jeonghun says wearily. “If this is used against me at my trial, I guess I’ll know.”</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun shakes his head. “I think we both know that’s not going to be a fair trial, anyway,” he points out. “But listen, if we do manage to get you out of this, I will come find you. I hope we can be friends.”</p><p> </p><p>“Go, before you’re caught,” Jeonghun says. “I don’t want it to have been for nothing.”</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun nods, and hurries back the way he came. He has no idea if anyone is on the other side of the door—they must have noticed by now that the sector wasn’t open—but when he pokes his head out the back door, the alley is empty. He sees one of Jungwoo’s bots on the wall, and waves. Its camera light turns from red to blue, and it skitters away, up the side of the building. Jungwoo was watching out for him, just like he promised.</p><p> </p><p>He wants to sit down and debrief with Jungwoo, but he knows he needs to get away as fast as possible. He fights the urge to run, and sets a brisk pace as he goes back toward the city. His heart is pounding, but he just keeps going, shoulders hunched and head down, until he reaches his stash of clothes in the alley. He changes, shivering, and then pulls the matchbox out of his pocket. He stands up a small, metal bin that was tipped over next to the pallets, and dumps all his clothing in—even the goggles Jungwoo gave him. He finds the small canister of gasoline Jungwoo had gotten for him, and pours it out over the clothes, then throws it in on top. He strikes a match, and tosses it, along with the rest of the matches, into the bin and takes a couple steps back. He waits until he’s sure it’s burning, and then hurries away.</p><p> </p><p>He takes a roundabout way to the park, avoiding cameras until he can’t anymore, and then boards a train to the grocery store. He picks up some instant bread, and then takes the train back home. He knows he should be hungry, or tired, but he can’t eat or sleep; can’t do anything except pace and pace as the night goes on, waiting for the morning to come.</p><p> </p><p>&gt;&gt;&gt;:&lt;&lt;&lt;</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun finally managed to settle down and rest in the early hours of the morning, as the sun was rising. When he wakes, it’s to his alarm reminding him he has work in a half hour. Groaning, he goes and splashes some water on his face and changes into his uniform. He turns his badge over and over in his hands. He got his answer, didn’t he? Deputy 24 was lying. Jeonghun was perfectly lucid and sane when they spoke last night. </p><p> </p><p><em> He could’ve been lying </em> , Jaehyun points out to himself. <em> Maybe he </em>is<em> insane; maybe he’s making it all up. Maybe he really believes it happened, because he doesn’t want to face the fact that he killed his wife.  </em></p><p> </p><p>He needs to see what the autopsy uncovers. He needs to check to see if Eunji had also taken out a life insurance policy on Jeonghun. </p><p> </p><p>It’s not that he’s so fulfilled in his job that having to leave it would flip his life on its head. It’s just that his father is a police officer, too, and he’s always been raised to believe in the sanctity of the law. The police force works for the people, protecting the average citizen from bad people, from crime and corruption. Sure, there’d been a few bad eggs that made their way in—Jaehyun remembers an officer who punished a few of Jaehyun’s fellow trainees when they found out about bribes being taken in the department and had presented it to the captains. But eventually, that officer was fired. So while it wasn’t a perfect system, it was still good.</p><p> </p><p>But now he’s not sure. Jaehyun was always under the impression that the police department worked side by side with the judicial system and the government. If the few pieces of information he’s uncovered are true, and moreover, aren’t unique, it seems that the police are actually working for corporations, or just the self-interest of the deputies and chiefs. He just needs to make sure he isn’t making it up, or blowing it out of proportion. He doesn’t want to throw away his worldview and life’s work so quickly.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t know what he’s going to say to his father, if he quits. It’s not like he can tell him <em> why </em> . He doesn’t really have any other prospects, or skills. He’ll probably have to move out of his apartment. He laughs to himself a little as he pours himself some coffee. <em> Maybe I can ask Johnny how to take up camming, </em>he thinks. </p><p> </p><p>The station is busy when he gets in. Jaehyun grabs a junior officer by the arm. “Hey, what’s going on?”</p><p> </p><p>“There was a break-in to the holding cells last night,” she explains. “No one was hurt, and nothing was stolen. The suspect in holding was also knocked out, and the cameras were cut the whole time. Whoever did it stitched a looped section of film back in, but we only just found it this morning, because they also hacked our security bots. We only just got them back up.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shit,” Jaehyun says. “What are we—”</p><p> </p><p>“Jaehyun, you’re here, good.” Jaehyun turns to see his father crossing the room. “Officer 8570, back to work.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Lieutenant.”</p><p> </p><p>“What happened, Dad?” Jaehyun asks. </p><p> </p><p>“We’re not sure yet,” his father says. “It’s <em> weird</em>, because nothing was taken, and aside from a sedative-induced nap, no one was hurt. Even the suspect that was in holding had been knocked out.” Jaehyun looks at him curiously. <em> Jungwoo was hard at work, it seems, </em> he thinks to himself. “It was that call you got the other day, by the way, the Choi guy,” his dad adds offhand. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh.” Jaehyun does his best to act surprised. “He didn’t see anything?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, if he did, he’s not saying. Not that he’s been saying much that makes sense to begin with, according to the officers in charge,” his father says. “We’ve got our hackers on it, trying to find a trace of whoever it was that did this, but so far we haven’t had much luck.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I’m not a hacker,” Jaehyun says. “So what am I supposed to be doing right now?”</p><p> </p><p>Mr. Jung sighs, rubbing his face. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Stay on the phones. Keep your guard up.”</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun nods, heading to his desk and logging on. He pulls up the Choi file—it can’t be too suspicious, right? Everyone has to be looking into it now—and finds the picture of the life insurance policy. He copies down the name of the firm and closes out of everything.</p><p> </p><p>This is the worst part, the waiting. He sits at his desk, gently swiveling back and forth in his chair as he watches the time pass on the clock. His skin feels like it’s on fire with all his anxiety, but he has to stay at his station, like it’s just another day. Like nothing’s wrong, or at least that he doesn’t know any better. </p><p> </p><p>He hates to get another person involved, but he needs access to Eunji’s body. He can’t trust the reports that will be released afterwards; they could write anything on that autopsy and pass it off as true. He knows Kun is working with the morgue this semester as part of his internship (he’s only complained a few dozen times that he already knows he doesn’t want to be a mortician of any kind), and he also knows Kun is good at what he does. They’ll need some time, cameras off, for Kun to examine the body. Autopsies usually take a couple of hours, so Jaehyun doesn’t know how feasible it is. But he knows he has to try. He thinks about Jeonghun, scared and bitter, grieving his wife, in his holding cell. If he’s really telling the truth… Jaehyun shakes himself a little. <em> It must be hell. </em></p><p> </p><p>His father is staying late, and he nods absently when Jaehyun asks if he’s allowed to leave at the end of his shift. “Keep your cell handy,” he adds.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t stay too late,” Jaehyun replies. “Mom will worry.”</p><p> </p><p>He heads out into the night, opting to walk instead of take the train. He knows it's impolite not to call ahead, especially so late at night, but he doesn't feel like trying to explain over the phone. He takes the familiar route to Kun’s house, just a few blocks down from Jaehyun’s parents’. Kun still lives at home, since he’s still in school. Once he graduates—soon, now; he’s in his last year—he’ll be the richest out of all of them, except Jungwoo and Chenle. Jaehyun has a feeling Kun is going to be a very good doctor, and will quickly climb the ranks until he’s one of the most sought-after providers in the city.</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun knocks on the front door. To his relief, it’s Kun that answers just a minute or two later. He’s still in his day clothes—pressed black slacks now wrinkled, crisp white button-up no longer so crisp. The silver chain that attaches a belt loop to the watch in his pocket glints under the porch light.</p><p> </p><p>Kun pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, relaxing when he sees it’s Jaehyun. “Can I help you?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry I didn’t call ahead. It’s a bit sensitive,” Jaehyun says. “May I come in?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure.” Kun steps aside, and then closes the door shut behind him. “Let’s go down to the basement. I can play some music, and we can talk.”</p><p> </p><p>“Perfect.” Jaehyun follows Kun down the hall and then down the stairs.</p><p> </p><p>Kun uses the basement as his study, so even though they’re underground, it’s comfortable and cozy. Kun nods to the couch for Jaehyun to take a seat while he goes to put on some music. He has one of those old record players—the quality is kind of shitty, but it’s nice and loud, and Kun says he likes that it’s not perfect. Kun sets the needle down, and classical music blares from the speakers. </p><p> </p><p>“Would you like anything to drink?” Jaehyun has to watch his mouth to understand what he’s saying.</p><p> </p><p>“No, thank you,” Jaehyun says with a shake of his head. Kun shrugs and grabs a glass and pours out some homemade fruit wine before joining him in the chair next to the couch.</p><p> </p><p>“So,” Kun says once he’s settled. “What can I do for you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Before I start, I just want to warn you that I’m asking for a lot,” Jaehyun says quietly. “And it’s going to put you in a lot of danger. So if you aren’t prepared for that, then I’ll just leave now. I don’t want to make you do—or hear about—something that makes you uncomfortable.”</p><p> </p><p>Kun gives him a look. “Jaehyun, I assumed it was serious when you said it was sensitive. And if it’s dangerous, I’d like to know now instead of finding out when something happens to me. Okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay.” Jaehyun sighs, and launches into a retelling of the events from the last couple of days. Kun’s eyebrows disappear into his bangs when Jaehyun mentions someone is helping him.</p><p> </p><p>“Who?” Kun asks.</p><p> </p><p>“I’d rather not say, just so there’s less people that know,” Jaehyun replies, and Kun nods. “So I went and visited Jeonghun, and he told me this crazy story. The thing is, I think he was telling the truth. I don’t think he murdered his wife. He says they were being blackmailed.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, so you want me to look at the wife’s body and see if I can find anything unusual,” Kun surmises. “Because you don’t trust your department to bring in the whole, unedited report.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Jaehyun says. “Is it even possible? You’ll have to do it without anybody seeing, and I know it takes a while.”</p><p> </p><p>Kun just smiles. “I have a friend who I think can help me.”</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun blinks. “Oh. Okay. Um, good.”</p><p> </p><p>There’s a pause, and then Kun asks, “Do you think this has anything to do with Johnny’s dad?”</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun just frowns. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. “It’s really starting to feel like it, though.”</p><p> </p><p>“I swear life here wasn’t always like this,” Kun says softly. “The secrets, the fear. But then it’s like, okay, when did it start, you know?”</p><p> </p><p>“I think it was just because we were children,” Jaehyun replies. </p><p> </p><p>“Do you,” Kun starts, and then sighs and lowers his voice to a whisper. Jaehyun can barely hear him above the music. “Do you ever think about getting out?”</p><p> </p><p>“And going where?” Jaehyun asks. “That’s if we even manage to make it beyond the wall without getting caught.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know. We have no idea what’s out there. We could go anywhere.”</p><p> </p><p>“What if it really is nothing?”</p><p> </p><p>“It <em> can’t </em> be,” Kun insists, eyes distant. “And I’ve heard—I’ve heard rumors. Of people leaving.”</p><p> </p><p>“You never know. They could’ve just been taken in.”</p><p> </p><p>“Or maybe Johnny’s dad just—left, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“He wouldn’t have left without Johnny and his mom,” Jaehyun says. “No way.”</p><p> </p><p>“I guess.” Kun sighs, putting down his empty glass. “Well, it’s getting late, and I have bribing to do. I’ll let you know when it’s done. I’ll invite you here to go over the results, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sounds good.” Jaehyun stands, and offers his hand to Kun to shake. “Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I want to get to the bottom of this just as much as you do,” Kun says. “There’s no need to thank me.”</p><p> </p><p>&gt;&gt;&gt;:&lt;&lt;&lt;</p><p> </p><p>It doesn’t take as long as Jaehyun feared. Just a few days later, he gets a call from Kun, asking if he wants to come for dinner. “Doyoung will be here as well,” he says. “He’s been helping me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Jaehyun says. “What time?”</p><p> </p><p>“How’s 20.00?” </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be there.”</p><p> </p><p>Doyoung is already there when Jaehyun arrives, and Kun leads him down to the basement after Jaehyun says his hellos to Kun’s parents. Music is already blaring, and Doyoung is hunched over documents spread across the table.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” he says without looking up.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” Jaehyun replies, going to stand across from him. “Care to fill me in?”</p><p> </p><p>“Doyoung’s mom was a doctor, before she retired,” Kun explains. “She had some connections, told them Doyoung was curious of the process of autopsies but said she was worried about the press finding out, and spinning some weird story about it.” Doyoung is a relatively well-known singer, and he comes from a family of celebrities. Jaehyun has to admit it’s a pretty great cover. </p><p> </p><p>“So your mom knows?” he asks.</p><p> </p><p>“No, she just thinks we wanted to hang out,” Doyoung says, rolling his eyes. “She’s convinced we’re dating.”</p><p> </p><p>“But the morgue, of all places?” Jaehyun can’t suppress his laughter.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I don’t know.” Kun just shrugs, looking equally bemused. “It’s not really important. What matters is she got the cameras shut off for a couple of hours, and I said I’d choose a random body. Of course, it was Eunji’s. So, no official documentation of this examination.”</p><p> </p><p>“Perfect,” Jaehyun murmurs. “Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know you know this is serious,” Doyoung says. “But the more I learn, the more I think we may be in over our heads.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, it’s too late now.” Jaehyun spreads his hands. “I’m already here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” Doyoung sweeps his bangs out of his eyes. “Well, Dr. Qian, would you care to explain the results?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not a doctor yet,” Kun says, rolling his eyes, but he picks up a piece of paper nonetheless. “Okay, let’s start with what we already knew. Eunji was stabbed, about two dozen times. Plenty of those stab wounds hit vital organs. So, open and shut, right? Here’s the thing, though. Her stab wounds weren’t the cause of her death.”</p><p> </p><p>“What, then?” Jaehyun asks, feeling an unpleasant sensation crawling up his spine. </p><p> </p><p>“Her cause of death was actually trauma to her brain. Not from the outside; it wasn’t that someone hit her over the head with something. The trauma is from the inside.” Kun points to a picture; it’s of a section of what Jaehyun has to assume is Eunji’s brain. “I found severe neuron damage when I did a scan. Do you know if Eunji had any mods? Specifically, any of the chips or headpieces that people get? Even a vision enhancer or a muscle stabilizer could do it; anything with access to her nervous system.”</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun shakes his head. “I don’t know. I can do some digging. It’s not outside the realm of possibility, though. She was a freelance researcher. Having some kind of chip for easy access to the net while she was out and about, or in the middle of chores, would probably have been useful.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, if she did, it would explain this.” Kun puts the paper back down. “The thing is, technically all mods are hackable, it’s just that it’s nearly impossible to get through security settings. Moreover, people usually don’t have a motive. But clearly, someone really smart, or with the security clearance, hacked hers and fried it. If it was just a limb, or something cosmetic, it might result in temporary or targeted paralysis, but with something attached to your brain, it usually means death, or at the very least, some kind of coma.”</p><p> </p><p>“So it still was murder,” Jaehyun says. “But Jeonghun definitely didn’t do it.”</p><p> </p><p>Kun shrugs. “I don’t see how he could.”</p><p> </p><p>“I wonder if I can ask around. Maybe some old paperwork of hers documents the mod,” Jaehyun muses.</p><p> </p><p>“It might not be on official records,” Doyoung points out. “They weren’t super rich, so she may have gotten a bootleg one. You could ask around, though I doubt anyone would be willing to admit they’re a bootlegger to a cop.”</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun looks over the pictures. “I don’t think I’m going to be a cop for much longer,” he murmurs. “I can’t do—this.” He shakes his head. “If she had mods though, wouldn’t they still be on the body?”</p><p> </p><p>“Usually,” Kun says. “But I think we all know this isn’t a usual case. I have a feeling whoever did the initial autopsy already removed them.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I’ll see what I can find tomorrow at work,” Jaehyun says. “But I’m quitting. I can’t be a part of this.” He feels sick; how many other cases had he unknowingly covered up, just in his few years on the force? How many other Jeonghuns were there, hidden away in mental institutions, convicted of fabricated charges, rotting away—or worse, killed? What about people like Eunji? How many other times had this happened, and he just hadn’t been sharp enough to notice?</p><p> </p><p>“Is there anything we can do to help?” Kun asks.</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun gives him a helpless look. “What <em> is </em> there to do? We can’t really do anything until we have more. No one would believe us, and if we’re right, it kind of seems like no one would listen, anyway, right? We have to assume anyone in any position of power is complicit, so… our hands are tied.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe in time we will be able to do something.” But Doyoung’s tone is grim. “For now, though, Jaehyun’s right. We have to keep our heads down. Pretend we never saw any of this. Causing a fuss now won’t do anybody any good.”</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose.” Kun looks reluctant, but Jaehyun knows he understands. “What should I do with these?”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you have a safe place for it?” Jaehyun asks. “Don’t tell me where, just—” Kun is nodding. “Okay, just keep the bare minimum, just in case it comes in handy. But—burn the rest.”</p><p> </p><p>“Got it,” Kun says softly, moving to sort the papers. </p><p> </p><p>“I should get going,” Jaehyun says. “Both of you, please take care.”</p><p> </p><p>“We will,” Doyoung answers for them. “You too. Be careful.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll try,” Jaehyun says, climbing back up the stairs. He waves goodbye to Kun’s parents and heads out into the night.</p><p> </p><p>&gt;&gt;&gt;:&lt;&lt;&lt;</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun spends the next day researching. The IT team still hasn’t recovered anything from the night of his break-in, so he has a feeling they never will. It’s just as well, because he has other things on his plate.</p><p> </p><p>He finds a copy of the official autopsy, and, as he suspected, it lists the stab wounds as Eunji’s cause of death. It doesn’t mention any mods. He goes to her file, and finds himself locked out of any of her information. Curious, he brings it up to his father when he has a moment.</p><p> </p><p>“Is it locked down because of the investigation?” he asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” his father replies. “I know you’re anxious to hear about it, since you were the first one on the scene. But I’m afraid you’ll have to wait.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay.” Jaehyun frowns to himself. <em> I have to do it now. I can’t stay here any longer. </em>He takes a breath. “Dad—I’m not sure I want to work here anymore.”</p><p> </p><p>His father looks up, surprised. “What? Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“I just don’t think it’s right for me,” Jaehyun replies carefully. </p><p> </p><p>“You must be a little stressed from this last week,” his dad says. “We all are. You can take a couple vacation days. You’ve saved up all your PTO, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, yeah, but I really think—”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t make a rash decision,” his father says sharply. “You can go ahead and take some time off. Get some rest.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m leaving my badge here with you,” Jaehyun says, realizing quickly this isn’t an argument he’s going to win right now. “I’ll take a week, and see how I feel. How’s that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine,” his father says. “I’ll log it.” Jaehyun puts the badge down on his desk and stands, making to leave. “Jaehyun,” his father continues. “What would you even do? If you quit?”</p><p> </p><p>“I… don’t know.” Jaehyun can’t bring himself to make eye contact. “I just…” He doesn’t know how to explain it. How can he? “Maybe I’m just tired. Maybe you’re right,” he lies. “I’ll see you this weekend.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay.”</p><p> </p><p>He escapes before he can ask any more questions, grabbing his coat from his desk and logging out. He heads out the front doors. He could take the subway home, he supposes, but he kind of wants to walk, because he doesn’t want to be home quite yet. Once he’s home, it’s real. Once he’s home, he’ll have to face this decision and try to come up with a reasonable solution. He’ll have to safeguard his whole apartment, and hope nobody comes knocking.</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun’s life is over. He realizes this now. He’s crossed far too many lines, and now he’s dangerous. Once they find out that it’s him, they’ll snatch him right up. Just like Johnny’s dad. Just like Jeonghun. It’s only a matter of time.</p><p><br/><em> Maybe they’ll give us adjoining cells in the psych ward</em>, he thinks to himself sardonically, and he can’t help the laughter that escapes his lungs, bursting out into the cold air. He can’t stop laughing, even when a couple people stare, even when he gets tired. He feels kind of insane, and tears prick behind his eyes. He laughs to himself all the way home.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“There’s another kid at the door!” Yuta’s dad calls from the kitchen. “How many people can you even fit in that room?”</p><p> </p><p>“That’ll be Mark, just let him in!” Yuta yells back. “And we’re just about at capacity, thank you for asking!”</p><p> </p><p>Shotaro giggles from beside him, while Renjun, on his other side, rolls his eyes. “We could totally fit, like, one more person in here after Mark,” he says. “We just wouldn’t be able to open the door.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hi guys!” Mark appears in the doorway, shuffling in and shutting it behind him. “I have snacks.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ooh,” Yuta says, sitting up straighter to see inside his bag. “What illegal fruit do you carry today?”</p><p> </p><p>“This is actually completely legal,” Mark says, amused but a little exasperated, as he produces a bag of chips. “The blueberries were a special occasion.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s what you said about the strawberries,” Shotaro points out, and Renjun and Yuta laugh as Mark rolls his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re all ungrateful,” Mark says, taking a seat on the floor next to the door and passing the chips to Renjun.</p><p> </p><p>“How is school, though?” Yuta asks. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, very good,” Mark says. “My professors love me. I’m learning a lot. Right now, I’m working with a professor to purify a new batch of soil…”</p><p> </p><p>Yuta turns back to the project he has in his lap as he listens to him talk. Yuta’s father is a low-ranking member of the Sundews, a local gang, named after the carnivorous plant. They have an agreement with one of the large pharmaceutical companies—his father won’t tell him which one, though Yuta has his suspicions—and as a result they get access to a lot of drugs. Some, they make for the company, but they get to keep some, which they turn into a variety of recreational drugs, from hallucinogens to dangerous stimulants. Yuta’s dad taught him a little bit, and Yuta’s found a talent in creating new drugs. He’s also pretty adept with poisons, and has even built up a tolerance to a few over the years. Right now, though, he’s just packaging some things they’ve already made, carefully measuring out portions to be distributed later. </p><p> </p><p>He tunes back in to hear Renjun mid-sentence. “…I’d never seen it before, and he almost looked relieved when I said so,” he’s saying. “He didn’t really stay long, but I wonder what it was about. I don’t usually see him around the parlor often.”</p><p> </p><p>“He did just quit his job,” Shotaro says. “Well, not quit, technically, yet, but he sounds like he’s planning to, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” Mark nods. “Jaemin told me he’s not doing very well. He won’t leave his apartment, except to get groceries, and when Jaemin went to visit him yesterday, he made up some excuse to get Jaemin out the door as soon as possible.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s really not like him,” Renjun says, frowning. “The Jaehyun I know is really sociable. Sure, he’s not, like, insane about company but he likes hanging out with people. Especially if it’s Jaemin. He’d never turn him away.”</p><p> </p><p>“What was the tattoo?” Yuta pipes up. “Do you remember? I can ask my dad; maybe it’s related to a gang.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, that’s a good idea!” Renjun reaches up for a piece of paper and starts sketching. “Anyway,” he continues as he draws, “I really hope he’s okay.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sicheng and I can go check on him this evening,” Yuta offers. “We didn’t really have solid plans, so we’ll swing by when I’m done with this.” He gestures to the drugs in his lap.</p><p> </p><p>“Here.” Renjun holds up the finished drawing. It looks like a half sun, filled in, with a couple of horizontal lines underneath. “I’ve been tattooing for a couple of years now, and I basically grew up in the parlor. I’ve never seen anything like it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Huh.” Yuta takes the drawing and examines it. “Neither have I. But I’ll ask my dad.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why <em> is </em> he thinking of quitting?” Shotaro asks. “I thought he loved his job. Plus, his dad’s worked there his whole life. Wouldn’t it be awkward?”</p><p> </p><p>Mark fidgets. “Jungwoo said he’s had trouble recently, with his work. He wouldn’t say what, but it sounds serious. Woo was really worried.”</p><p> </p><p>They sit in weird, concerned silence for a moment, but slowly they pick their conversation back up, about more normal, cheerful topics, and soon it’s pushed to the back of Yuta’s mind. He works his way through the drugs, sealing each packet with care before offering it to Shotaro to weigh, stealing the occasional chip. Renjun talks about the new light-up ink they just got into the parlor, and how he’s done at least two dozen infinity symbols just this week.</p><p> </p><p>Too soon, Yuta’s work is done and it’s getting close to dinner time. The other three say goodbye and head back home, and Yuta gathers up the now-packaged drugs and pops into the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>They live in one of the matchbox houses, so calling it a kitchen is a bit generous—it’s a stove and a counter with some chairs, and a few cabinets on the wall. They have a little fridge and a microwave. The other side of the room houses an old couch and a shitty little TV. Yuta’s room is just big enough for his bed and a little mobile desk attached to the wall that he can pull down and work at from his mattress. He has a few shelves on the wall, and his bed folds up into the wall so he can access his clothing stored underneath. His parents shared a room, though now it’s just his father; his mother died when he was 14 from complications after an unlicensed doctor tried to remove life-threatening tumors. His sisters share the other room, but Haruna is in school to be a nurse, and she stays in an apartment paid for by her sponsor that’s much closer to the university. Momoka is a mechanic, and is also a member of the Sundews. He knows she and their father are in some kind of conspiracy to keep Yuta from joining, too, but Yuta doesn’t really see how he can do anything else.</p><p> </p><p>“Here,” he says to his father, who’s still sitting at the counter, going through a box of supplies. “Shotaro weighed them, too, just to check. It should be all good.”</p><p> </p><p>“Perfect, thank you,” his father says, accepting the bag.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to be out with Sicheng for a little while, but when I get back, I need to ask you about something,” Yuta says. “So don’t let me forget.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay?” His father gives him a confused look. “Don’t stay out too late then.”</p><p> </p><p>“Please, you never go to bed early.” Yuta scoots out the door before his father can retaliate.</p><p> </p><p>Sicheng meets him at the little strip mall, outside the instant ramen place they like to go to when they pretend to be fancy. Yuta runs up to him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and giving him a kiss. Sicheng laughs happily, holding him close. “Hi,” he says, voice soft.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi,” Yuta replies. “You’re so busy these days, I hardly see you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” Sicheng says. “I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, it’s okay. Your job is cool and sexy.”</p><p> </p><p>“I dance and act, which would at least be cool if I could actually get booked for something.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, seriously! I’m proud of you.” Yuta tugs away so he can link their arms instead. “Let’s eat.”</p><p> </p><p>Once their ramen is steaming in front of them, Yuta brings up Jaehyun, and the prospect of going to check in on him.</p><p> </p><p>“We definitely should,” Sicheng says immediately. “I’d heard he’s been MIA. I can’t believe he quit.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” Yuta says. “Well, we should probably call ahead. According to Jaemin, he’s been a little jumpy, so best not to take him by surprise.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I think that would be wise.”</p><p> </p><p>Yuta calls Jaehyun on Sicheng’s phone while Sicheng finishes his ramen, but he doesn’t pick up. He tries a couple more times, but he just gets voicemail, over and over.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing?” Sicheng asks.</p><p> </p><p>Yuta shakes his head. “I’m really worried now. We should stop by.” He gives Sicheng an apologetic look. “I’m sorry I’m hijacking date night.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, it’s important,” Sicheng says, smiling. “I want to go see him, too.”</p><p> </p><p>They pay for their food and make for the nearest subway station. It’s a short ride to Jaehyun’s, and soon they’re climbing the stairs to his unit. The hallway is quiet; Yuta can hear muffled talking from Jaehyun’s neighbors, but it’s faint. When they reach Jaehyun’s door, though, it’s silent. Yuta rings the doorbell, and Jaehyun pokes his head out of the door almost immediately. </p><p> </p><p>“Come in, be quick.” He steps aside to let them squeeze by, sweeping up and down the hall to make sure they weren’t followed. Yuta notices he has a gun in his hand. Jaehyun shuts the door and stays by it for a moment with his eye pressed to the peep-hole. Eventually, he’s satisfied, because he lets out a sigh and gestures for them to take a seat.</p><p> </p><p>It’s dark in Jaehyun’s apartment. There isn’t the familiar hum of electronics in the background. Yuta realizes most of the light sources are actually candles, or small, battery-operated lights. Sicheng leads him to the couch, where they both sit gingerly, watching as Jaehyun brings over a pot of tea and a few cups.</p><p> </p><p>“Jaehyun,” Yuta says softly. “What’s going on?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hang on.” Jaehyun picks up a little disc from the table and switches it on, sweeping it over both of them. It continues to beep steadily, and after a moment he nods and turns it off. “Sorry. Just have to check for bugs.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why are you living in the dark?” Sicheng asks. “What happened?”</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun gives them an uncomfortable look. “Listen, the faster you make this visit, the better. You don’t want a target on your backs.”</p><p> </p><p>“Whatever you got yourself into, we can help,” Yuta says. “I can ask my dad; the Sundews owe me a couple favors.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not that,” Jaehyun says. “It’s much bigger than that. I don’t want to tell you, because then you’ll be in danger. But I… found some things out that I probably shouldn’t have. That’s why I quit. That’s why I’m living without electronics. I know they’re probably going to put the pieces together soon, but I don’t want to make it easy for them. And if I lie low, maybe they’ll just let me be.”</p><p> </p><p>“You keep saying ‘they’, who’s ‘they’?” Yuta asks.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t even know,” Jaehyun says. “Just—everybody. The government. The police. The people in charge of some of these corporations. You can’t trust anybody, do you understand?”</p><p> </p><p>Yuta feels cold. Either Jaehyun has gone completely insane, or this is real, and they’re all in trouble. “Do you know what happened to Johnny’s dad?” he asks.</p><p> </p><p>“No, I don’t,” Jaehyun says. “I wish I did. Maybe then I could actually do something about all this.” He meets Yuta’s gaze, steady and sharp. “I’m not lying, and I’m not crazy. If something happens to me and they tell you I’ve lost my mind, you can’t believe them, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” Sicheng says. Jaehyun just snorts.</p><p> </p><p>“Why did you ask Renjun about that tattoo?” Yuta asks. “What’s so important about it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Did he tell you about that? I told him not to mention it to anyone.” Jaehyun groans. “See, this is what I mean. I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you guys anything else. And you can’t stay here, either. It’s not safe. I wish—I wish this wasn’t happening. But you’re going to have to leave. I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Yuta agrees, standing. “But, please—we all just want to help you. If there’s anything any of us can do…”</p><p> </p><p>“Stay safe,” Jaehyun says. “Stay safe and stay vigilant. I don’t know what’s going on, exactly, but I don’t like it.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’ll do our best. You should take care as well.” Yuta reaches out for a hug, which Jaehyun accepts. “Stay in touch.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll try.”</p><p> </p><p>Yuta and Sicheng find themselves out on the street again, only a few minutes after they arrived.</p><p> </p><p>“What the hell was that about?” Sicheng asks.</p><p> </p><p>“No idea,” Yuta says, brow furrowed. “I wish he would tell us. I wish we could do something.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” Sicheng murmurs. “But it’s like he said. It’s not safe.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Yuta murmurs. “C’mon, I’ll walk you home.”</p><p> </p><p>&gt;&gt;&gt;:&lt;&lt;&lt;</p><p> </p><p>Yuta’s father is still up when he returns. Momoka is home, too; Yuta can hear the shower running. He notices the packages are gone, but he doesn’t even have to ask before his father is nodding and saying, “They said everything looked perfect, as usual. I added the bonus to your account.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, thanks,” Yuta says.</p><p> </p><p>“You said you wanted to ask me about something?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” Yuta digs out the folded piece of paper that has Renjun’s drawing on it. “Do you know anything about this tattoo?”</p><p> </p><p>If Yuta didn’t know better, he’d say it’s fear that flashes across his father’s face. “Where did you see that?” he asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Renjun said—Renjun said he saw it somewhere.” Yuta takes a seat beside his father, spreading the paper flat on the counter. “So you <em> do </em> recognize it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yuta.” His father’s voice is serious. “Listen to me. This tattoo only means trouble. You see someone with this tattoo, you turn and run in the opposite direction. I don’t care how big and tough you think you are. I don’t care how many people you have with you. I don’t care if whatever it is you’re doing is the most important thing in the world. You drop everything, and you go. You hear me?” He taps the drawing. “<em>Especially </em> if it’s filled in like this.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is it another gang?” Yuta asks.</p><p> </p><p>“‘Gang’ feels like a juvenile word for them,” his father says. “Every member gets this tattoo, but when they start off, the sun is only outlined. As they complete more and more jobs and move up in the ranks, they get it filled in, line by line.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, so it <em> is </em>a sun,” Yuta says triumphantly. “What kind of jobs?”</p><p> </p><p>“What, are you thinking of joining?” his father asks, sarcastic. “You don’t want to know.”</p><p> </p><p>“How do you know about them?” Yuta presses.</p><p> </p><p>“I ran into them when I was young. Once was enough for me.” He shakes his head. “What we do is child’s play. What we do isn’t serious. Them? That’s real. That’s actually dangerous.”</p><p> </p><p>“What do they do?” Yuta asks. <em> What on earth could make a guy like Dad, who works so close to all kinds of gangs, get so upset? He’s seen everything. </em>His father looks rattled. It’s definitely fear, and that’s new to Yuta. The last time he was afraid was when Yuta’s mother was dying.</p><p> </p><p>“Stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, or it’ll get sliced right off your face.” His father is smiling, but his voice is hard. The conversation is over, whether Yuta likes it or not. “Go to bed.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m an adult, you can’t tell me what to do.” But Yuta does as he’s told, sliding into the bathroom as soon as Momoka emerges. She pinches his arm, grinning, before disappearing into her room.</p><p> </p><p>Lying in his bed that night, Yuta can’t help but turn it all over in his head. <em> If Jaehyun saw someone with that tattoo, then he’s definitely in trouble. But he said it was bigger than gang work. Then again, Dad said they were more than that. But what does that mean? </em></p><p> </p><p>It almost feels like an insane conspiracy theory. But it can’t all be coincidence. Johnny’s father’s disappearance, Jaehyun’s strange behavior, and now this—a mysterious organization that has even Yuta’s father scared into silence. </p><p><br/>
<em> You can’t trust anybody, do you understand? </em> The urgency in Jaehyun’s voice rings in Yuta’s ears. His skin prickles with anxiety; his stomach feels hot and cold at the same time. Something terrible is coming, he’s sure of it. He only wishes he knew what.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank u for reading ^^ you can find me on tumblr <a href="https://kjmsupremacist.tumblr.com/about">here!</a><a></a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>omg happy new year!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Thank you for joining me today,” Johnny says, watching the flood of comments come in as he catches his breath. “If you enjoyed yourself, please consider subscribing. You can find more information about that, as well as the different membership levels, on my about page, which my bot should be putting in the chat right now. See you guys next time!”</p><p> </p><p>He switches off the camera and closes down the webpage, shutting the laptop and pushing everything into a little heap closer to the door. He groans, and lies back against the cool tile, closing his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>He gives himself a minute or two, then stands and forces himself to take a quick, very cold shower. The water bill is always too expensive for him to let the water heat up, but especially now, without his father’s income, money is tighter than ever.</p><p> </p><p>Now clean, Johnny stores away all his electronics and toys in the drawer of the coffee table, and flops down onto the couch. He’s not a camboy by choice, though it’s not necessarily something he’s ashamed of in and of itself. He was going to be an athlete, get onto one of the big volleyball or basketball teams, and dig his family out of poverty. He’d been practicing since he was little. But it just never worked out; he’s just not good enough. He goes to tryouts whenever he can, but he never even gets past the first round. He was shit at school, so he can’t take on any kind of academic career, and there’s no way he’d ever be a cop, so camming it is.</p><p> </p><p>It’s not all bad, and it’s pretty profitable. The one thing Johnny can say for his years of sports is that he’s come out of it with a great body, so that boosts his popularity a bit. All he has to do is act sexy on camera, and the site he uses has a pretty fair rate for creator memberships, so it most certainly could be worse.</p><p> </p><p>It’s not a secret among his friends and family, either. Though Johnny takes care to remain faceless on the internet to protect his identity, he doesn’t bother hiding it from the people in his life. Most of his friends think it’s kind of cool; Ten had once kindly informed him that if he didn’t know him personally, and he had money, he’d be Johnny’s biggest fan. Johnny hadn’t really known how to take that. His mom knows, too; that’s why she’s out of the unit right now, to give him a little privacy. He checks the clock; 18.27. She should be back soon with groceries. </p><p> </p><p>His mom has a small cooking channel that gives them a bit of revenue. It’s nice because it’s all food they would be eating, anyway, so she could make money off of something she’d be doing either way. Johnny’s dad, before he vanished, had been a factory worker for Body Systems, a medium-sized pharmaceutical company. Together, they made just enough to keep the bills paid and themselves fed, with just a little extra to sock away. Sure, they live in a little matchbox apartment, and Johnny sleeps on the fold-out couch because it only has one bedroom, but it was good.</p><p> </p><p>Without Johnny’s father, though, it’s difficult. Johnny had moved from streams twice a week and new video uploads every other week to streams three to four times a week and weekly video uploads, sometimes more when he had the motivation or the time. His mom had tried to expand her channel to more general homemaking topics, just so she’d have more content. It works well enough, but they rarely have anything leftover.</p><p> </p><p>Johnny sighs and sits back up. He should start preparing for dinner. His mom isn’t filming anything tonight, so he can go ahead and set some things up. He stands, stretching, and sees his reflection in the window. He realizes it’s gotten dark, and goes to close the curtains. When he does, he notices a man standing under one of the lamps outside, just off the path. Johnny flinches, yanking the curtains shut. He never shows his face when he cams because he enjoys his privacy. He’s heard cases of stalker fans before, and wants nothing to do with them. He really hopes the guy on the street isn’t here for him, but he swears he was just standing there, watching for something.</p><p> </p><p>He shakes himself a little. There’s not really anything he can do about regardless. Dinner, however, is a completely different question. Johnny washes some rice and sticks It in their beat up old rice cooker, then pulls out some clean pots and pans. He sets the kettle to boil and finishes putting the clean dishes away so the drying rack is clear for this evening, and then washes some vegetables. As the water begins to boil, he hears the lock click.</p><p> </p><p>“Johnny-yah!” It’s his mother, and he pokes his head around the corner, reaching out so she can hand over the groceries. “Everything go smoothly?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yep,” he replies, carrying the bags back to the counter. “Any luck?”</p><p> </p><p>She shakes her head, solemn. “They said they didn’t have any new leads.”</p><p> </p><p>“Something will turn up eventually,” Johnny says on reflex. It doesn’t mean anything. Neither of them believe it.</p><p> </p><p>It’s been about a month at this point: one day, Johnny’s dad just didn’t come home from work. He and his mom took it to the police right away—it was incredibly uncharacteristic of him. He loved them deeply, and he was a family man through and through. He’d never abandon them, and if he was going to be late, he would’ve let them know. </p><p> </p><p>The police said they’d look into it; Jaehyun wanted to be on the case, but he was turned away due to his close personal connection. They searched the security footage, but all they could find was a video of Johnny’s father leaving work on time that evening, and then—nothing. No cameras had picked him up after. He’d disappeared in between the front doors of his building and the next cameras stationed at nearby street corners. The police tried to track down people who weren’t so easy to identify in the footage that could have possibly been him, but this turned up nothing. After about a week, they stopped getting new information.</p><p> </p><p>So it’s mostly been up to Johnny and his mom, and Johnny’s friends. They’ve put out ads, told all their neighbors, even gone looking in the hospitals, in bars, down dark alleys where addicts were known to gather. Yuta had asked his father to put out a word in the underworld. But still, nothing. They go to the auxiliary station every couple of days to check in, though they both know it won’t do any good. But it’s not like they can sit still.</p><p> </p><p>The unit feels empty without him. His dad didn’t have a big personality, but he was kind and loving. He was always tinkering away in the corner, or making little gifts for Johnny and his mom. When Johnny woke in the middle of the night, he used to hear him snoring, even if the door to his parents’ bedroom was closed. Now, the unit feels still and quiet, almost haunted. </p><p> </p><p>Johnny and his mom cook together, chatting about nothing to fill the silence. Johnny wishes he could do more. He wishes he could fix it all for his mom, put their life back together so she wouldn’t have to work so hard. He knows she’s worried; he has a vague feeling his father got in trouble and his mom knows something about it, but doesn’t want to tell Johnny for fear that it will put him in some kind of danger. But he doesn’t know what to do. Camming can only bring in so much money, and there’s not a lot he can do to protect either of them. When he was younger, it was okay if he was only contributing a little. But now, he’s a whole adult, almost twenty-six, and he’s still just short of useless. And despite all of this, his mother still has the heart to love him, to care for him, to put up with him. It makes his stomach churn with guilt.</p><p> </p><p>The conversation lulls once dinner is made, and Johnny works his way through his rice slowly. It’s so quiet he can hear the clicking of their chopsticks, and then—</p><p> </p><p>“Are you doing okay?” his mother asks softly.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright.” Johnny flicks his gaze up to her and then back down to his bowl.</p><p> </p><p>“You sure?” She reaches across to lay her hand on top of his. “It’s okay if you miss him, you know.”</p><p> </p><p>Johnny presses his lips together. “I know,” he forces out. “I do.” </p><p> </p><p>“I do, too,” his mother says. “I’m glad that I at least still have you.” She gives him a sad sort of smile. “My hardworking boy.”</p><p> </p><p>Johnny can’t help it; he feels a lump rise in his throat. Truth be told, he’s always favored his mother; in dark, private moments he has found himself thankful it was his father that disappeared. It’s not that he has anything against his dad, it’s just that his father’s loss is bearable because he has his mother. If it were the other way around, Johnny’s honestly not sure how he would’ve coped. “I’m glad I have you, too,” he says.</p><p> </p><p>He insists on doing the dishes so his mother can go rest; they put on an old movie when he’s done, but neither of them are really watching it. Johnny’s thoughts wander back to the guy he saw outside the window earlier. Come to think of it, he’s pretty sure he’s seen someone loitering around there before; whether it’s the same person is a different story entirely. Still, it chills him. If he was a different kind of person, maybe he’d go down and try to approach him—if he was smart, he’d find out if it was a fan, and, if it was, offer to cut some kind of deal along the lines of physical sex work, but he’s not that kind of person. If he was braver, maybe, he’d go up to the guy and tell him to leave him the fuck alone. </p><p> </p><p>But Johnny’s not smart or brave. He knows this. If he was, they wouldn’t still be in this matchbox apartment. If he was, maybe he would’ve already figured out what happened to his father, or else bullied the police into working harder. If he was, his life would be wildly different than it is now.</p><p> </p><p>Asleep later that night, he dreams he’s standing in the living room and watching his world slowly crumble away. He’s afraid if he moves, the ground beneath him will disappear and he’ll fall into the void. He watches his friends’ houses and trailers sink out of sight. There’s a narrow road leading into the city, and when he squints he swears he sees some of his friends waving to him from one of the buildings.</p><p> </p><p>He’s just gathered up the courage to move to grab his mom’s hand and go when he hears a scream. His mother is hanging on to the edge a few feet away from him, just a couple of steps out of reach. Johnny freezes. He wants to move; he wants to run and save her, but he can’t. Terrified, he can only watch as she falls. The world spins; he tries to stumble towards the city but he’s so dizzy—</p><p> </p><p>Johnny lurches upright in bed, gasping. Faint light is filtering in through the curtains; it must be early morning. Though his world is still, Johnny feels nauseous, and he’s covered in a thin layer of sweat. He stumbles to the bathroom and heaves over the toilet. Not much comes up, his dinner long since digested, so it burns. Once he’s finished vomiting, though, the nausea subsides, leaving him shaking and weak. He rests his forehead against the cool seat of the toilet and catches his breath.</p><p> </p><p>He peels himself up off the floor after a few minutes and brushes his teeth, checking the time. 07.24. Not so early after all. His mom will be streaming her lunch prep in a couple of hours. Johnny’s meeting Mark at his place around 10.00, so there’s no way he’s going back to sleep now.</p><p> </p><p>Sighing, he sets the water to boil and changes out of his ratty old sweatpants and into some black cargo pants and a random black t-shirt. He pushes the curtains aside and looks down onto the path below. He’s relieved to see no one there.</p><p> </p><p>He fixes himself some coffee and heats some leftovers, and goes to check his stats. He’s gotten a few new subscribers since he shut off his stream last night. Someone sent him a gift as well. He nods to himself as he stabs at a stray piece of meat. <em> Not bad</em>. </p><p> </p><p>His mother emerges from her room around when Johnny is cleaning his dishes. “Morning,” she says, startling Johnny a little.</p><p> </p><p>“Morning,” he replies. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, I need to prepare for the stream,” she says with a smile. “Why are you up so early?”</p><p> </p><p>“Couldn’t sleep,” Johnny says with a shrug. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re going to Mark’s today?” She already knows; the question is absent.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I’m gonna clean the bathroom and then go,” Johnny says.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay.”</p><p> </p><p>Once the bathroom smells like the citrus of their cleaning solution, Johnny shrugs on a coat, gives his mother a kiss goodbye, and heads out into the cold.</p><p> </p><p>He passes Taeyong’s family’s trailers and waves at Mrs. Lee through the window. Soon, the trailers are behind him and he’s on the street, passing his friends’ houses. Yukhei is out in his yard, and he shouts his hellos as Johnny passes.</p><p> </p><p>“Going to Mark’s?” he asks. “Tell him hi!”</p><p> </p><p>Most everyone seems to either be at work or still sleeping. The streets are oddly quiet, even when Johnny gets into the more central areas, near the smaller park. He only sees one other person after he leaves Yukhei’s neighborhood—just a guy chilling on the street corner. He turns up towards the nicer neighborhoods, and then down Mark’s street.</p><p> </p><p>Mark pops his head out the door when Johnny’s halfway down the front walk. “Hey, man,” he says. “Just in time, my mom made noodles if you’re interested.”</p><p> </p><p>Normally, Johnny would be, but today he shakes his head. “I just ate,” he says. “Also, I threw up this morning, so I probably shouldn’t push it.”</p><p> </p><p>Mark makes a face. “Ew. You okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Johnny says lightly. “Probably just ate something weird, you know how it is.”</p><p> </p><p>Mark leads him up the stairs to his room; Mark’s older brother, James, sticks his head out of his room to say hi when they pass his door. Johnny flops down on Mark’s bed, and Mark joins him. They sit in silence for a moment.</p><p> </p><p>“Heard your stream went well yesterday,” Mark says.</p><p> </p><p>“How did you know?” Johnny asks, giving him a look.</p><p> </p><p>“No, I didn’t watch it, dude,” Mark says, laughing awkwardly. “Ten said he went and looked at the chat near the end, said he saw a lot of tips.”</p><p> </p><p>Johnny rolls his eyes. “Yeah, it was good,” he says. “I think Ten forgets sometimes that he has a loving boyfriend.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nah, he just likes to check up on his friends in weird ways,” Mark says. “So, like, we don’t know that he actually cares about us.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wonder if he’s found a sneaky way to check in with Jaehyun,” Johnny murmurs. </p><p> </p><p>Mark shakes his head. “If he has, he didn’t tell me anything. I know Yuta went to visit him the other day with Sicheng, but it was brief, and like, really weird.”</p><p> </p><p>Johnny shrugs. “Well, I guess there’s only so much we can do.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” Mark lies back, staring up at his ceiling. “Anyway, I’m glad it went well. Your mom still doing okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“As well as she can be,” Johnny says. “Her numbers have been a little low lately, but I think it’s just bad luck. She’ll recover them in a week or so.” He lies down, too, so that he and Mark are shoulder to shoulder. “How’s school?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s… fine,” Mark says, an edge of nervousness entering his voice. “Still learning plenty. It’s weird though, ‘cuz, um—you can’t tell anybody, by the way. I’m not really sure what I’m talking about, you know?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure,” Johnny agrees, watching Mark stretch out to turn on his fan. It whirs to life noisily.</p><p> </p><p>“So I’ve been working with a professor on purifying some soil,” Mark says, voice hushed. “And it just—it seems way too easy to purify it, like—I don’t understand why we can’t just do it to all the soil, so we don’t have all these shortages? But Prof just kind of gave me this non-answer about how it’s much different on a bigger scale… I don’t know.” Mark bites at his nails.</p><p> </p><p>“That sounds… kind of off,” Johnny says slowly. “I mean, maybe you’re just really smart, which is why you think it’s easy? But if you’re just doing what they’re teaching you, then I don’t think that’s the case, since it’s not like you, like, invented a new method?”</p><p> </p><p>Mark shakes his head. “Yeah, no, I’m just following along. It’s made me scared, though—like, I’m glad I smuggled out portions of my last few yields. According to their expectations, and like, reported baseline, my plants are way off the charts. I’m not saying it to, like, flex. I’ve just had wild success with my plants and I don’t know why. And just this last time, I was growing peppers—you know, the little spicy kind we use in marinades? I smuggled some of those out, too, obviously, because my plants were <em> heavy </em> with them. The guy who came in to check my work said, like, ‘you can go ahead and do a little worse,’ you know? I think he was joking, but…” Mark turns to Johnny. “I don’t know. It kind of sounded like he—he <em> knew </em> I was skimming some of my yield, and encouraging me to take more?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hard to say,” Johnny says, frowning. “How did he say it?”</p><p> </p><p>“He kind of looked me over, and gave me this weird sorta smile,” Mark replies.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, he’s <em> definitely </em> saying you can and should take more,” Johnny says. “Either that, or he’s trying to get you to fuck him for better grades.”</p><p> </p><p>“I highly doubt it’s that second one,” Mark stutters out. “We have different graders all the time.”</p><p> </p><p>“Just laying out options,” Johnny says, laughing at Mark’s discomfort. “But, yeah, that’s really weird.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m gonna sound, like, completely insane for saying this,” Mark begins. “So like—just, don’t take it too serious? It’s just a weird thought that I can’t shake. I—it just kind of seems like this—this underreporting I do happens at higher levels, too. For me, it’s not that big of a deal, because the food the students make goes to the university’s cafeteria; it’s not like a lot of other people are relying on it. And I bring it to you guys, most of whom can’t really get fresh food anyway. But—I don’t know what I’m saying,” Mark mutters. “I’m just getting the feeling that they’re, like, underreporting and skimming off the yield to keep a bunch for themselves—like, the rich scientists and business owners. And I mean, I get it, food is important. But a lot those people subscribe to that bare essential shit.”</p><p> </p><p>The fad diet consists of these “nutrient cubes”—referred to by believers as the <em> bare essentials</em>; referred to by everybody else as <em> joyless Jell-O </em>or just a fucking scam. The idea is that food shouldn’t be extravagant; people will get a cube for each of the food groups based on their body’s needs for every meal. Johnny’s never tried it, but apparently it tastes like wet sand. It’s usually made from ground up plants of some kind—just based on what it’s for. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, they do use raw materials,” Johnny points out. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, but it’s only like, beans and nuts and shit,” Mark points out. “Why should they care about things like fruit? Vegetables? Besides, even if they don’t subscribe to that diet, like—it’s wrong for them to keep it for themselves. It would be one thing if it was the businesses in charge, but this is the <em> government </em> we’re talking about. I don’t know, dude. I don’t really have any proof. Something just feels a little wrong.”</p><p> </p><p>Johnny pushes down the fear in his stomach. “But why would they do that? Wouldn’t it be better to give people access to fresh food?”</p><p> </p><p>Mark grimaces, a shadow falling over his expression. “I mean, it’s a pretty nice tactic for control,” he whispers. “If they maintain the supply-demand gap—like it’s just another way to keep people down.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s a bleak and terrifying thought. “I hope you’re wrong,” Johnny says.</p><p> </p><p>“I mean, I fuckin’ hope I am, too,” Mark says with a sigh, sitting back up and switching the fan off. “Anyway. Do you want to play a game or something?”</p><p> </p><p>&gt;&gt;&gt;:&lt;&lt;&lt;</p><p> </p><p>Johnny gets home around dinner time. His mother is cooking away in the kitchen, and the whole unit smells like delicious food.</p><p> </p><p>“Need help?” he asks as he hangs up his coat.</p><p> </p><p>“No, I’m almost done!” She waves him off with a smile.</p><p> </p><p>Johnny goes to take a quick shower and then putters around the couch, cleaning up random scraps as he waits. He goes to shut the curtains and nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees the same man from the night before, out under the street light. He’s staring directly up at Johnny, and doesn’t look away. </p><p> </p><p>Johnny yanks the curtains shut, heart hammering in his chest. With a jolt, he realizes it’s also the guy he saw on the way to Mark’s this morning. <em>We’re being watched</em>, he thinks, panic rising. <em>For how long? Since Dad disappeared? Or even before that?</em> <em>What are they watching for? </em></p><p> </p><p>“Johnny-yah, are you okay?” Johnny whips his head around, just now realizing he’s been standing, frozen, facing the wall, hands still clutching the curtains.</p><p> </p><p><em> Should I tell her? </em> he wonders. <em> Does she know? </em> He’s about to open his mouth to say something, but then he stops. <em> What if I’m wrong, though? I don’t want to scare her for no reason. And even if I am right, what can she do about it? Nothing. We aren’t doing anything wrong, so they won’t find anything, anyway. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Johnny?” His mother is giving him a concerned look.</p><p> </p><p>“Y-yeah, sorry,” he says, shaking himself and coming over to the counter. “I’m fine. Just… just thinking.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hi!! thank u for reading! tumblr is <a href="https://kjmsupremacist.tumblr.com/about">here</a>! I also just released my january posting schedule, which you can find <a href="https://kjmsupremacist.tumblr.com/post/638849178905329664/january-posting-schedule-click-for-hd-im">here</a>!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Donghyuck wakes to find both of his arms entirely numb. He groans quietly, blinking against the light, and yawns. He extracts the arm under Taeil’s neck as carefully as he can, unfolding the other one, which was tucked between his chest and Taeil’s back, once he’s rolled over.</p><p> </p><p>He takes his time shaking feeling into them, clenching and unclenching his fists as they come back to life. He squints at the clock. <em> 09.34. </em> Early for a day off. He suspects his dead arms were what woke him. </p><p> </p><p>There’s no helping it now, though. While he’s a pretty good sleeper, and a spectacular napper, once he’s up, he’s up. With a sigh, he pushes himself upright, and stands. His footfalls are soft on the hardwood, almost soothing in the stillness of the morning. He shucks off his pajama shirt and shorts and finds a pair of white jeans and a black t-shirt. He tucks in the t-shirt and belts the jeans, then brushes his hair out of his eyes, looking in the mirror. His face is puffy. It’s a good thing he’s not streaming today.</p><p> </p><p>Donghyuck is a gamer. He’s not very famous or popular, but he does have a loyal, albeit small, fanbase. He doesn’t mind—it could be a lot worse—but it would be nice if he had a <em> large </em> and loyal fanbase. It would certainly pay the bills. Still, he can’t complain. He has a little cash to spare, and that’s more than a lot of people can say. He’s saving up for a mod—probably a hacker patch. He lifts his arm up and traces the inside of his wrist. One day, hopefully soon, he won’t have to imagine it.</p><p> </p><p>Taeil stirs in the bed, and Donghyuck smiles, crossing the room and bending over him, resting a hand on his cheek.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi,” Taeil murmurs when his eyes focus on Donghyuck.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi,” Donghyuck replies. “I think I smell food. Wanna go see if my family left us any?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’d love to.” Taeil grins at him, stretching up for a kiss and using this leverage to push Donghyuck up out of his face so he can sit up.</p><p> </p><p>Donghyuck watches Taeil as he changes out of his pajamas, admiring the strong lines of his back. One might think the age gap would be weird for them—not that it’s much of a gap; Taeil is only six years his senior. They started dating a few months after Donghyuck turned eighteen, which raised a few eyebrows. But Taeil is sweet and kind and unassuming, and he’s always taken care of Donghyuck. So once the initial shock faded, both families settled down and welcomed them into their respective lives, and it’s been that way ever since.</p><p> </p><p>“Breakfast?” Taeil asks, shaking Donghyuck out of his thoughts. </p><p> </p><p>“Race you!” Donghyuck springs to his feet, slipping past Taeil, out the door, and down the hall, laughing as Taeil’s protests float after him.</p><p> </p><p>“One of these days, you’re gonna break all your bones sprinting around this house, and I certainly will not fix them for you,” Dongjoo, Donghyuck’s younger sister, says primly from her seat at the kitchen table. “I’ll send you to my classmate who just might flunk out of the med track altogether.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll just go to Kun-hyung, thanks,” Donghyuck replies, sticking out his tongue. “Where are Dongwook and Donggeun?” These are their two younger brothers; though they’re a few years apart, they’re very close, and usually do most things together.</p><p> </p><p>“Left already,” Dongjoo says. “Something about their friends, I don’t know. Hey, Taeil-oppa,” she adds when Taeil pads serenely into the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey.”</p><p> </p><p>“I see.” Donghyuck replies to his sister. “Dad cooked?”</p><p> </p><p>“If that’s what you want to call cooking.” Dongjoo nods at the plate of lopsided discs Donghyuck has to take for pancakes that are cooling on the counter. “They’re not bad, they’re just not… pancakes,” she says, shrugging. “They’re better with cream than syrup.”</p><p> </p><p>Donghyuck nods, moving the plate to the table while Taeil gets the cream. “Cream” is a generous word—it’s half preservatives and half artificial flavoring, but it does the trick. If Donghyuck lives long enough for the repercussions of eating so many chemicals to actually catch up with him, he’ll consider himself lucky. He dishes out the pancake-adjacent circles, two for him and two for Taeil, and settles down to eat.</p><p> </p><p>“Where’s Mom ’n’ Dad?” he asks his sister around a mouthful of food.</p><p> </p><p>“Dad’s doing, like, yard work or something,” Dongjoo says. “And Mom’s at a meeting at school.” Their mother teaches at the local school; it’s near the end of the semester, so she’s pretty busy. “You guys are going to Jeno’s later, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Why?” Taeil asks teasingly. “You want us out of your hair?”</p><p> </p><p>Dongjoo gives him a look. “Yes, actually. I’m studying, and you two are very noisy.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s fine, we don’t enjoy your company either,” Donghyuck replies for Taeil. </p><p> </p><p>“Great, something we can agree on.”</p><p> </p><p>Though tormenting his sister is one of Donghyuck’s favorite pastimes, it’s true that Jeno’s family is expecting them for lunch. So once the not-pancakes are in their stomachs and the dishes are washed and put up to dry, they make their way out of the house.</p><p> </p><p>They could take the train, but they have time, and it’s an unusually nice day out for the dead of winter. It’s sunny and bright, albeit bitingly cold, so they bundle up in long, thick coats and head out onto the street. Donghyuck takes Taeil’s hand and swings their arms between them; Taeil lets him, smiling. </p><p> </p><p>“What do you think Jeno’s parents are going to try to serve us for lunch?” he asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, not that Jell-O anymore. They hate vomit more than they hate normal food,” Taeil replies, laughing. “God, that was so funny. Yukhei was proud of himself, too.”</p><p> </p><p>“He still swears he was just trying to burp to piss them off,” Donghyuck exclaims. “Which I don’t know if I believe. But either way, I really admire him for just absolutely not giving a fuck.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re just lucky Jeno managed to convince his parents it was because the food was way too different from what Yukhei was used to.” Taeil shakes his head. “Otherwise I don’t think any of us poor people would be welcome back in their home.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, instead we get to be their charity case,” Donghyuck says with an eye roll.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, not all of us,” Taeil reminds him. “Dejun doesn’t need charity, and neither does Chenle, and they’ll be there today.”</p><p> </p><p>“Most of us, most of us.”</p><p> </p><p>They’re nearing Jeno’s neighborhood—the houses are much nicer here, the yards larger and more manicured. Jeno doesn’t quite live in the inner circle where some of their even richer friends live, which is nice because that neighborhood is gated, and Donghyuck has had problems before getting to Chenle’s because he doesn’t live in the area. He has a feeling, though, that as Jeno’s acting career takes off, his family will be moving.</p><p> </p><p>A car lands in the driveway of one of the houses that they pass, startling Donghyuck. It’s one of the expensive electric ones, meaning it’s nearly silent. Taeil squeezes his hand, and Donghyuck flashes him a fond look. </p><p> </p><p>Jeno answers the door when they ring the bell, Jaemin right beside him. </p><p> </p><p>“Hi.” Jeno’s voice is soft and demure. He’s dressed down today—normally, his parents have him in strange, stiff attire and often the corset vests that Jungwoo loves as much as he hates. He’s in a tight, stiff-collared black long sleeve, and thick grey pants with angular stitching. Jaemin, in complete contrast, is in an oversized, bright yellow t-shirt and thin, worn jeans that have huge rips on the thighs and knees. </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin is grinning ear to ear. “Hellooo,” he says, drawing out the last syllable for dramatic effect as he pulls Donghyuck in for a hug. “Why’d you guys walk? It’s cold.”</p><p> </p><p>“We were kicked out of the house early,” Donghyuck replies dryly. “And it’s not that cold.”</p><p> </p><p>“Kicked out?” Jeno asks, real concern coloring his voice.</p><p> </p><p>“Dongjoo is studying, and requires silence,” Taeil says, and Jeno makes a noise of understanding, laughing quietly.</p><p> </p><p>“Lunch isn’t ready yet,” Jaemin says as he leads them down the hall. The tile floors shine even under the dim ceiling lights, the reflections flashing a little as Donghyuck passes them. Jeno’s house is built in the current fashion—open concept, neutral colors, angular rooms, and recessed lights so they don’t obstruct the inhabitants. Jaemin turns a corner, still chattering. “We’ve been in the living room, terrorizing Jeno’s mother from afar.”</p><p> </p><p>“Your dad is working, I’m guessing?” Donghyuck asks Jeno. Jeno’s father works for the government; his mother serves as a judge.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Jeno says. “He’s been working a lot lately. Obviously, he can’t tell us what’s going on, but something sure is keeping him. I think Mom knows something about it, though, because she isn’t angry with him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hm,” Donghyuck says, taking a seat on one of the couches and reaching for one of the cookies laid out on the coffee table, handing another to Taeil when he slides down beside him. “Where’s everyone else?”</p><p> </p><p>“Later than you,” Jaemin replies, settled on the other couch with his head on Jeno’s shoulder. “Ten was going to ride the train to Dejun’s since it’s closer to his place, and then they were gonna walk together, and… what was going on with Yangyang and Chenle?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yangyang stayed at Chenle’s last night,” Jeno says. “So I’m not surprised they’re taking forever to get over here. Honestly, I wonder if they’re even awake. I bet they stayed up really late.”</p><p> </p><p>“How are you guys, by the way?” Jaemin asks. “I feel like we’re all seeing less of each other lately.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s because we’re all adults now,” Donghyuck says with a heavy sigh.</p><p> </p><p>“Finally,” Taeil mutters sarcastically, and Donghyuck elbows him.</p><p> </p><p>“Strange things have been happening,” Jeno points out quietly. “I think we’re all a little preoccupied. Some…” he glances at Jaemin, expression clouded. “Some more than others.”</p><p> </p><p>Jaemin waves off Taeil’s look of apprehension. “This whole house is completely safe,” he says. “We shouldn’t go into detail, but Jeno’s dad’s work is sensitive, so they have all kinds of security.”</p><p> </p><p>“What did you mean, some more than others?” Donghyuck asks.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s talking about Jaehyun,” Jaemin replies. “I went to see him the other day. Actually, I probably should go drop by again, just to check in. I haven’t heard from him in a couple days now. Anyway, I went earlier this week to say hi, and he turned me right around and had me out the door in like ten minutes flat. I still don’t know what’s up with him, but I’m kind of reluctant to go back. Whatever it is, he’s really set in his isolation.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s weird, right?” Jeno asks, eyes almost pleading with Donghyuck and Taeil to agree with him. “That’s super weird.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re all worried,” Taeil reassures him. “It <em> is </em> especially odd, though, isn’t it?”</p><p> </p><p>“I mean, he’s been like this for a couple weeks now.” Jaemin shrugs. “Maybe it’s the new normal.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, because him kicking Yuta and Sicheng out is, like, a little uncharacteristic, but it’s not beyond the scope of my imagination,” Donghyuck says, thinking of Yuta’s eccentric personality. “But you?” He focuses back on Jaemin. “He’d <em> never </em> turn you away. You’re, like, his younger brother. Or his son, or something.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I guess,” Jaemin says, shaking his head.</p><p> </p><p>The alert system chimes. “Xiao Dejun and Lee Ten are approaching the front door,” the bot announces. “And requesting access.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, we’ll get it,” Jeno says, getting to his feet. “No, you guys stay. No need for all of us to stampede through the halls.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’ll probably scare the maid,” Jaemin says, giving Donghyuck and Taeil an amused look. </p><p> </p><p>“Seriously, though,” Taeil says. “I mean, did he say anything to you? Jaehyun?”</p><p> </p><p>Jaemin makes a rather sour face. “Not really, just that if I really needed something and I couldn’t get a hold of Jeno or anybody else, I could call, but that it would be safer for everyone if I didn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“I wonder if his parents know,” Taeil muses. </p><p> </p><p>“Maybe we could get Kunhang’s mom to check in?” Donghyuck asks. Kunhang’s mother works at the same station as Jaehyun and his father, so if anyone could find something out, it would probably be her.</p><p> </p><p>“We can ask Kunhang,” Jaemin says. They hear voices coming down the hall.</p><p> </p><p>Ten is half-draped over Jeno as they walk side by side, Dejun trailing behind with a bemused look on his face. “So, yeah. I told him to be careful, because what else am I supposed to say?” Ten is saying.</p><p> </p><p>“Jaehyun?” Donghyuck asks.</p><p> </p><p>“No, Johnny,” Jeno answers, brow furrowed. “Apparently, he and his mom are being watched. Or so Johnny thinks.”</p><p> </p><p>“Johnny’s not the overly-paranoid type,” Taeil says. “So I think if he feels like he’s being watched, he’s probably right.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s what I said,” Ten agrees, releasing Jeno so he can plop down in an armchair. Dejun takes the one beside him. “Ooh, cookies.” Ten takes one and talks through a bite. “He asked me if I thought he was insane.”</p><p> </p><p>“A lot of insanity seems to be going around,” Dejun says dryly. Jaemin snorts.</p><p> </p><p>They’re silent for a moment. Donghyuck said it partially as a joke before, that they’re all adults now, but the truth of the statement settles over him, heavy and sad. Cheerful banter is sparse these days with the real-world problems that weigh on all of their minds. A wave of nostalgia hits him. He never really believed it when his parents told him he’d miss his childhood, because all he ever wanted when he was young was to grow up. Now, though, he has to admit they were right. He wants school night sleepovers back; he wants to not know anything again. He leans into Taeil a little, closing his eyes. He’s tired of being so tired.</p><p> </p><p>“Boys.” This is Jeno’s mother, calling them from the doorway to the dining room. “Food is about ready, if you want to w—”</p><p> </p><p>The alert system chimes again, cutting her off. “Zhong Chenle and Liu Yangyang are approaching the front door.”</p><p> </p><p>“Perfectly timing,” Jeno’s mother says, tone just on the exasperated side of neutral, disappearing back into the dining room.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll grab them,” Jeno says, standing. “You guys go ahead.”</p><p> </p><p>They all clamber to their feet, following Jaemin through the dining room to the sink on the far wall so they can wash their hands. Jaemin points them to their seats—the Lees are particular about seating arrangements, which is beyond Donghyuck—and they settle in as Jeno leads the last two into the room. Chenle flicks Donghyuck on the back of the neck as he passes, and Taeil lays a hand on Donghyuck’s arm so he doesn’t retaliate.</p><p> </p><p>Lunch for the boys is real, fresh steak. They know better than to ask where it came from, instead quietly working their way through it as Jeno’s mother cuts small bites of her little nutrition cubes, asking meaningless questions about how they’re doing. </p><p> </p><p>“I haven’t seen Jaehyun around lately,” she says, flashing a look at Jaemin, so fast Donghyuck almost missed it. “Is he busy?”</p><p> </p><p>Everyone fidgets a little, looking around at one another. “I think he’s busy,” Jeno finally replies. “There was a—a murder recently.”</p><p> </p><p>“I see.” Jeno’s mom takes a delicate bite of her food.</p><p> </p><p>The rest of lunch is kind of awkward and quiet, and Donghyuck is incredibly relieved when they’re finally excused from the table and they can go hang out in Jeno’s room. Jeno sets up a new VR game he got, and they take turns with it, onlookers laughing at the crazy, flailing movements the players make as they navigate the virtual world.</p><p> </p><p>“Dude,” Donghyuck says to Jeno when he pulls off the helmet and hands it to Yangyang. “Can I do a special stream here sometime? My followers will flip.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure,” Jeno says with a shrug. “I’ll let you know when I’m free.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, you’re still filming for your new drama, right?” Yangyang asks, voice muffled from the helmet.</p><p> </p><p>“We wrap in two weeks,” Jeno says with a grin. “I’m excited about this one.”</p><p> </p><p>“We can have a watch party!” Jaemin suggests, butting his forehead against Jeno’s shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, maybe not that,” Jeno replies, looking faintly embarrassed.</p><p> </p><p>They hear a little chiming noise, and all look up. </p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, that’s just me,” Ten says, holding up the little phone that Jungwoo made for him. “It’s Taeyong.”</p><p> </p><p>Jungwoo has been putting basic phones together for their whole friend group for the past year or so from scraps he finds lying around his father’s workshop. Naturally, he’s going in age order, so Ten and Taeyong got theirs months ago. Donghyuck is still waiting; Yukhei is next, so he has a while to go. Obviously, he can’t complain—it’s a free fucking phone. Besides, he can always steal Taeil’s if he really needs to.</p><p> </p><p>Ten is sitting in shocked silence, clutching the phone to his ear with both hands. They all quiet down and watch him, concern in the room now almost palpable. “Shit,” Ten mutters finally. “He’s still there with you?” Pause. “Okay. Yeah, okay. Yeah, yeah I am. Okay. Yeah, I’ll—I’ll tell them. You should probably call—yeah, call Johnny. Okay.” Another long pause. “Okay, see you tonight, I guess. Yeah. Love you.” He lowers the phone from his ear slowly, looking up at them.</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Jeno asks, voice small and scared.</p><p> </p><p>“He said…” Ten shakes his head, turning his phone over and over in his hands. “Jisung went to check on Jaehyun today. He knocked on his door and he didn’t answer. He kept knocking, so loud that he actually woke one of Jaehyun’s neighbors up. So he—he picked the lock. He didn’t think he’d be able to get in, because like—I mean, you know how Jaehyun put a million deadbolts on the door a couple weeks ago?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, and?” Dejun asks impatiently.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, and he got in, and all the deadbolts were undone, and the apartment was dark and empty.” Ten’s eyes are filled with fear. “He was nowhere to be found. All his clothes, all his things, they were all still there. There was a pot of cold tea on the coffee table. Nothing seemed out of place—it’s like he just… left, and never came back. All Jisung could find was a knocked-over teacup on the floor beneath the table.” Ten rubs his face with his hands. He’s trembling. “There was still a little bit of tea in the cup, but everything that spilled was already dry; Jisung said he could barely make out a stain. So the last time he could have been there would be a day ago, if not more.”</p><p> </p><p>The room is still. Donghyuck feels like he’s just been plunged into an ice bath. His hands find Taeil’s, and he squeezes so hard both their hands turn white, his nails digging into Taeil’s palms. Taeil doesn’t flinch. All he can hear is all of them breathing as they stare around at each other, wide-eyed with panic. The silence stretches on for a few minutes, and then Chenle sinks to the floor, setting aside his VR helmet.</p><p> </p><p>“What,” he begins, but his voice cracks. He clears his throat, looking up at them, and tries again. He looks as lost as Donghyuck feels. “What do we do now?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>tumblr <a href="https://kjmsupremacist.tumblr.com/about">here</a>!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What’s wrong, huh?” Seulgi props herself up on an elbow, looking over the edge of her mattress at the little bot that’s been bumping against it repeatedly amid adamant squeaks. “Este, do you know what time it is?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Este stops bumping and responds with a series of indignant, high-pitched squeaks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Now?</em>” Seulgi groans, flinging her blanket off and pushing herself to her feet. Este rolls away quickly so she doesn’t get stepped on. “Why didn’t my phone ring?” Este beeps again. “Okay, there’s no need for that kind of attitude. Chunhwa, lights please!” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The lights in Seulgi’s unit glow to life. “Good morning, Seulgi,” the AI greets. “You have four missed calls and seven text messages.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, Este told me. Will you play the news?” Seulgi roots through her closet, pulling out a pair of loose cargo pants and an oversized t-shirt. She scoops her hair into a bun on the top of her head as she hurries into her kitchen, eyes on the holo that Chunhwa is projecting in the middle of her living room. Este follows behind, whirring with the speed she’s going.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“…next week will see the last day of filming for <em> Stem and Tree, </em> the new drama starring the up-and-coming Lee Jeno. He told fans last week that he’s never been more excited to share his work…” The newscaster rattles off more entertainment-related news as Seulgi brushes her teeth. Chunhwa has started the heat under the kettle when Seulgi reemerges from the bathroom.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“In case you missed it, here’s some recaps of the big news from last week. Choi Eunji’s husband and killer was committed to a mental facility after being found not guilty by reason of insanity. He will undergo rehabilitation. The investigation of the Skyview School teacher…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You know, Chunhwa, Este, I don’t think he did it,” Seulgi says, tuning out the rest. If they’re recapping, it means nothing new has happened. She grabs a slice of bread and takes a bite.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Who, Seulgi?” Chunhwa asks serenely while Este just lets out one, long, exasperated squeak. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That Choi guy,” Seulgi replies, pointing at the holo with a butter knife. “I really don’t think he killed his wife.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What makes you say that?” Chunhwa asks. Este squeaks rapidly at the same time. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nothing, I just don’t think it makes sense. A gut feeling, you know?” Seulgi pours herself some coffee. “And yes, Este, I hear you. I’m working o—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Seulgi’s phone starts ringing. Este makes a triumphant squeak, while Chunhwa provides, unhelpfully, “You have an incoming call from Bae Joohyun.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Seulgi sighs and taps her wristband. An earpiece from the set of lenses and other tools she has stored near her temple emerges, and she sticks it in her ear.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Where are you?” Joohyun’s voice is sharp and clear and <em> incredibly </em>loud. Seulgi cringes, dialing down the volume a little. “We’re having problems with that new synthetic arm.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, yeah, I bet you are; I didn’t build it,” Seulgi says, rolling her eyes. “Did you have Sooyoung check the programming?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, she says it’s in the mechanics. Chairman Kim is losing his mind. Fixing them all will take a few days at least, and that’s after we find the problem.” Seulgi lets Joohyun chatter in her ear as she puts her dishes away and gathers her things. “He’s set to release the line next week. Why didn’t you answer your phone?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It was off, because I was <em> sleeping</em>,” Seulgi says. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t you have Chunhwa wake you if you get a call?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not on my days off! You’re lucky Este is an obstinate little collection of scrap metal,” Seulgi says, shooting Este a look. “She’s what woke me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Whatever, just hurry in, okay?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I mean it, no stalling! Even Yerim is here today.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What, was she supposed to be doing a shoot for them?” Yerim, their close friend, is the daughter of the head of UltraViolet, the leading mod company in NeoCity. She’s his eldest, and the face of the company, though she doesn’t do any of the actual work. She’s the reason they’re all employed—Joohyun handles business relations, Sooyoung is a high-ranking programmer who works cybersecurity, and Seulgi is a mechanic. Seungwan probably would be working for him too, doing design, if she were still alive.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I mean, she still can,” Joohyun says. She pauses, and Seulgi hears her say, faintly, “<em>No, </em>the pink ones! Yes, those, thank you.” Another pause, followed by a sharp sigh. “I have to go. Get here as fast as you can. I’ll send a car.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay,” Seulgi agrees. Joohyun has already hung up. She removes the earpiece; it retracts back into her head. “Alright, guys, I have to go save the world. If my brother stops by, just tell him my evil boss is making me work overtime again, okay?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Understood,” Chunhwa replies, while Este squeaks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He can’t fire me, Este, Yerim would never forgive him.” Seulgi peers out her window and sees a car approaching in the distance. “That’s for me. See you guys tonight.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Seulgi shrugs on her coat and steps out onto the porch. She hears Chunhwa lock it behind her. The car hovers close, doors opening so she can duck in. They shut behind her once she’s seated, and the car whisks her off towards the city.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>All the cars in NeoCity are flight-enabled and driverless. They’re all connected to the internet and communicate with one another. Accidents are extremely rare since the vehicles all know where all the other vehicles are at all times. It’s a brilliant system; it minimizes crashes, all but eliminates traffic, and lets passengers work while they ride. Of course, a car isn’t cheap. All the hard- and software that goes into the car’s computer alone costs more than Seulgi makes in a year, and that doesn’t account for how much of her money goes to rent, food, and bills. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Seulgi watches placidly out the window as her car merges seamlessly with the others and zips her over rows and rows of houses and apartment buildings, clustered together on the harsh concrete. The city comes into view, and the buildings are much closer now, the tops glinting in the sunlight. It’s a forest of glass and steel, though half the trees are dead and decaying, long since abandoned. Seulgi can make out people milling around on the streets below.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A very stressed attendant is waiting for her when she lands outside the company building. “This way,” he says, leading Seulgi inside even though Seulgi’s been working here for a couple of months now. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sooyoung is sitting at a computer in the workshop, dressed in a stiff, navy blue suit, slacks neatly pressed, watching tiredly as other mechanics pick apart one of the arms. In the corner, another group tests the arm—it flails wildly, and one of them shrieks and turns it off.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Got one that nobody’s touched?” Seulgi asks Sooyoung.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, over there,” Sooyoung says, nodding to a cabinet. “Take your pick.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Where’s Joohyun?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Helping our Yerim with her incompetent stylists,” Sooyoung replies, twirling slowly in her chair. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Seulgi grabs one of the arms and lays it out on an unoccupied table. “The problem is in the elbow joint?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Primarily, I think,” Sooyoung says. “Though it leads to a bunch of other mechanical failures.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Whoever designed this is a mechanical failure,” Seulgi mutters, unscrewing some of the pieces around the joints.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, they’ve already been fired, so you can rest easy,” Sooyoung replies. “If you get this fixed, I bet Chairman Kim will promote you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If he doesn’t, I’ll be furious,” Seulgi says, rolling her eyes and holding the screwdriver between her teeth to pick some of the wiring apart. “I’m saving his ass here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Will I have to recode it?” Sooyoung asks, peering over at Seulgi. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Can’t tell yet,” Seulgi replies. “Might just be incorrectly wired or something. Oh, nope, it’s also missing a stabilizer.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It has a stabilizer, the other engineers already checked,” Sooyoung protests as Seulgi crosses the room to the supplies to root through the many drawers for the part she needs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, I’m not the other engineers, and I say it needs another one,” Seulgi says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So I <em> do </em> need to recode.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not recode, just add some shit. It’s the same as the other stabilizer in the elbow joint,” Seulgi explains. “I need to wire it to the knuckles, but you’ll mostly be copy-and-pasting.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank god,” Sooyoung mutters, accepting the extra stabilizer that Seulgi drops on her desk so she can get started. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Seulgi fits the piece in, opening up panels in the arm so she can run wires up and down from it, plugging them in behind the malleable faux-muscle. As much as she values her free time, she has to admit she loves her job. Maybe it’s just because she’s exceptionally good at it—she flicks her eyes up to the other mechanics, who are still struggling in some way or another—and it gives her a little bit of a god complex, but it’s nice to know she’s not only useful, but vital.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She switches the arm on, connecting it to a controller, and begins testing. There’s no flailing; the movement is smooth and controlled. “Hey, Sooyoung, look at this!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, we’re saved.” There’s a note of dryness in her tone that is not lost on Seulgi. “Great, can I see it so I can fix the programming?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yup.” Seulgi switches off the arm and carries it over to her. “We’ll need other people to test it, obviously, but I don’t know where the chairman is.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Seulgi, finally.” Seulgi turns and sees Joohyun walking toward her, heels clicking against the floor. She’s in a baby pink suit jacket and a matching pencil skirt, black hair slicked back in a perfect high bun. Her shoes are white, and match the crisp button up she’s wearing under her jacket. Her manicured nails flash—the glitter designs on the clean, shiny black are laced with the tiniest lights, so they light up after charging in the sun. She looks <em> great</em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What do you mean, finally?” Seulgi asks, pointing at the arm. “I already fixed it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It still needs testing,” Sooyoung points out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll go get the chairman.” Joohyun turns, but whirls back around quickly. “You’re lucky you’re smart, with that attitude,” she says to Seulgi.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know,” Seulgi says smugly. “But, c’mon, Joohyun, you wouldn’t have me any other way.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Joohyun flips her off as she walks away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You know,” Sooyoung says, going back to her coding. “Antagonizing her is not the same thing as flirting with her.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Close enough,” Seulgi replies, shrugging and dropping into the seat beside her. “If she didn’t like me, she’d kill me for it, so I think it serves its purpose.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The doors open again, and the chairman strides through after Joohyun. “I hear you fixed it?” he asks, adding, “Despite arriving over an hour after we called.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I apologize,” Seulgi says. “I didn’t hear my phone. I was asleep. But if you would?” She picks up the arm and carries it back over to the testing table, removing the coverings so she can show him her work. “I added a stabilizer and rewired the old one.” She runs her fingers over the wiring. “If you only have one stabilizer around big joints, usually it leads to malfunction, I’ve found. Sometimes you can get by if the stabilizer is big enough, or if it’s not for such a crucial spot, but the elbow is connected to so many things, so it’s always best to have two.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I see.” Chairman Kim leans down to look. “May I test it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Certainly.” Seulgi steps back and lets him hook it up to the testing equipment. Joohyun appears beside her. “How’s Yerim?” she asks quietly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good,” Joohyun replies, a little distracted as she watches the chairman test the improved arm. “She’s really easygoing, so she’s doing okay, even though everyone else is stressed out. She’s worried for the product release, obviously, but if she has to come in tomorrow, or the day after, she said she doesn’t mind.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, that’s our Yerim,” Seulgi says, nodding. She nudges Joohyun. “How about after we’re all done, we go out for drinks? I think we all deserve it, after today.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sounds great to me,” Joohyun replies, shaking her head a little.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eventually, the chairman is satisfied. “Make a few more,” he says to Seulgi, “And I’ll have people test them. If they’re good, we’ll get everyone on repairing the rest.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“On it,” Seulgi says. A couple of workers come by with more arms and parts, and she sets to work, while the chairmen stops everyone else. Soon, the changes are made, Sooyoung’s code is done, and they’re released for the moment while the testers get to work.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Come with me,” Joohyun says, grabbing Seulgi and Sooyoung by the wrists before they can go anywhere. “Let’s go check on Yerim.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They find Yerim sitting to the side as the staff puts some of her photos through editing. She’s surrounded by a couple of small, automatic fans to keep her cool, and is sipping a juice box slowly. Her eyes brighten when she spots the others across the room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hi!” she chirps, waving. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Taking a break?” Sooyoung asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yerim nods seriously. “My monitor said my blood sugar was getting low, so,” she replies, gesturing to the juice box.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The chairman had, a few years ago, come out with a body monitoring mod that hooks up to the client’s nervous system and keeps tabs on things like blood sugar, heart rate, brain activity, and other vital organs. It’s useful, but a little creepy. Nonetheless, he had it installed on himself and his four children as soon as it was tested and approved.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Did you get the arm figured out?” Yerim asks Seulgi. “I heard Joohyun screaming on the phone for you earlier.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Seulgi says, rolling her eyes. “It’s getting tested right now, but I doubt it’s going to have problems.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, good.” Yerim smiles. “My dad must be pleased.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He was.” Joohyun rolls her eyes, too. “He’s so lenient with her. Tell him he shouldn’t pick favorites.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He’s not picking favorites,” Yerim says sweetly. “Seulgi’s just that good. The same goes for you and Sooyoung. He likes you because you’re good at what you do.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I wish he’d let you actually do something,” Sooyoung says, nudging Yerim. “I mean, this—photoshoots and promotions, it’s great and all, but what happens when he gets old? What happens when he dies? Who else would he leave the company to?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yerim shrugs, eyes far away. “I don’t know if he’ll ever die,” she says, neutral and vacant.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Joohyun laughs. “Everyone thinks that about their parents,” she says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Seulgi pinches her. “Don’t be insensitive.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, it’s alright,” Yerim says, focusing her eyes back on her friends. “I mean, if anyone can say it, it’s Joohyun.” Joohyun lost her father to cancer when she was a teenager; Yerim’s father had taken her in and sponsored her education. “It was different with Mom. Though it was shocking when she died, it didn’t seem like the impossible had happened. Father, though…” She shrugs. “Maybe it’s just that I’ve seen him come back from the worst kind of grief. Mom was his soulmate, you know. Imagine losing a love like that, and still choosing to live. I think that makes you invincible.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Or maybe it’s just all his mods,” Sooyoung mutters. Seulgi pinches her, too.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Luckily, Yerim didn’t hear because she’s being called away by the photographer. At the same time, an attendant comes hurrying in. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The chairman is satisfied,” the attendant says, breathless. She must have run. “Please, Kang-ssi, he’s requesting you demonstrate the repairs.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Coming,” Seulgi says. Sooyoung follows after, waving to Joohyun.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We’ll catch up when we’re all done, yes?” Joohyun asks them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes!” Seulgi replies over her shoulder as they leave the room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once Seulgi has shown the workers how to fix the arms and all their questions have been answered, Chairman Kim pulls her aside. “Thank you for your work today,” he says to her. “I’m always pleased when my riskier hires prove themselves quickly.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank you,” Seulgi says, bowing shortly. <em> Risky? What, because I’m young and I’m poor? </em> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I think your talents are wasted at a station in the workshop,” the chairman continues. “Might we schedule a meeting so I can see some of your work?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’d love that,” Seulgi says, brightening immediately. “I don’t—I don’t have a degree in engineering, though.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I think you’ve proven to me today that degrees don’t mean everything,” Chairman Kim points out. “We’ll iron out the details later. For now, I want you to take on a more leading role with projects. You have valuable insight. Once the launch of this product is over, we’ll discuss further promotion. You can expect a twenty percent increase in your salary in the meantime.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re very generous,” Seulgi says, bowing again. “Thank you.” She watches as he strides away, likely back up to his office to smooth things over with the board.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Congratulations.” Sooyoung has come up to her. “Well-deserved, too. Does this mean you’ll treat us tonight?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fuck no,” Seulgi replies, giving her an incredulous look. “Joohyun shits money, it should be her treat.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m teasing,” Sooyoung says, bumping her shoulder against Seulgi. “Let’s go see what the others are up to.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>&gt;&gt;&gt;:&lt;&lt;&lt;</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They go to their favorite bar, Garnish<em> , </em> scooting in to their favorite booth. Joohyun orders for them; Seulgi watches the people behind their waitress as she does. This is one of the most upscale bars in the city; it’s on the upper floor of a shopping center and features rooftop seating. It’s protected by its own little force shield, similar to the one that encases the entirety of NeoCity. Space heaters with holographic flames burn in the center of all the tables to keep customers warm. Needless to say, Seulgi always feels a little out of place. But it’s good alcohol, and it’s relatively private, so she doesn’t mind.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Around her, people chatter loudly. Seulgi doesn’t know which mods to focus on—everyone here is dressed extravagantly, with loud hairstyles and bright, flashing outfits. One guy has metal spikes embedded in his skin; a woman walking by has either replaced or covered her skin with a synthetic material patterned to look like leopard fur. Seulgi sees she even has a tail; it sticks out of a little hole in the back of her chrome leggings. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Look,” Sooyoung says, nudging Seulgi and Yeri and pointing across the bar. There’s a pretty girl seated at the opposite window. Her dark skin glows blue in the light of the fire holos. What’s striking is her hair—it moves of its own accord, and when Seulgi squints, she realizes her hair is actually a collection of metal snakes, green eyes flashing, scales shimmering. “Now <em> that’s </em> a cool mod design.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s pretty badass,” Seulgi admits. “She looks like Medusa.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wonder if men turn to stone when they look in her eyes,” Yerim says. “That’d be kind of nice, I think.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They laugh together as their waiter walks off. <em>Seungwan</em> <em>would disagree</em>, Seulgi thinks, though she doesn’t say it out loud. She allows herself to get lost in memories as Sooyoung and Yerim point Medusa Girl out to Joohyun. The booth is too big for them now with Seungwan gone; it used to be just the right size for five girls and their bags, but now they’re awkwardly spaced apart on the black leather.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Seungwan was so young when she died—she’d just turned twenty-four. It was supposed to be the beginning of everything for all of them; Joohyun had been working for UltraViolet for a couple of years already at that point. In fact, they’d celebrated her twenty-seventh birthday just a week before Seungwan’s death. Seulgi had finally gotten her own place and was working with Sooyoung to create the AI that would become Chunhwa. Sooyoung was set to finish school that spring, and she was acing all her programming classes. And Yerim had only been nineteen, still fresh out of preliminary schooling, and with her whole life ahead of her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Seungwan was the most outgoing and funny of the five of them. She was also arguably the smartest, though Seulgi liked to point out it was like trying to find the brightest source of light in a room of multiple sources all so bright, they were blinding. She could speak many languages, and she was charming. She always had a boyfriend, though it changed every few weeks. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>However, she also always had a weak immune system. It was rare that anyone with access to money would die of an illness these days, but not unheard of. She was sick frequently as a child, and that spring, she’d caught a tough strain of pneumonia. She was immediately isolated and cared for, but her body was quickly overwhelmed. She sustained a high fever, and her blood pressure dropped. Her organs were failing, even after she was given antibiotics. Her mother asked Chairman Kim if there was any kind of mod he knew of that could save her, and all he could offer was to try replacing her organs with synthetic ones. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Seungwan was already in shock, and as a result was delirious and confused. The girls did their best to say goodbye and wish her well before she went into surgery, but it was hard through glass. Seulgi remembers pressing the pads of her fingers to the cool surface and hoping Seungwan would understand why they couldn’t be there to hold her hand. And then, she was wheeled away for the operation. Her body rejected the replacement organs, and she passed away that night.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey.” It’s Sooyoung. The noise of the club comes rushing back into Seulgi’s ears. “Here’s your drink.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“To UltraViolet’s future head mechanic,” Yerim says, grinning.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes!” Sooyoung agrees, raising her glass. Joohyun rolls her eyes good-naturedly, but brings her hand up alongside the rest of theirs as well.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Cheers,” Seulgi says. Her knuckles brush Joohyun’s, and when she looks over at her, Joohyun doesn’t look away. They watch each other over the rims of their glasses as they drink, and when they set them back down, Joohyun leans in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, come stay at mine tonight,” she says. “I don’t want you traveling all that way in the dark.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Seulgi lets a slow smile spread across her face. “Sure,” she says, tapping her wristband. “Let me just tell Chunhwa.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hi hi! come chat on <a href="https://kjmsupremacist.tumblr.com/nav">tumblr</a>! i have a few new pages up as resources for my readers ^^</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yerim hurries down the hall, wrapping her dressing gown tightly around her. Her AI, Mercy, had woken her just minutes ago, informing her that her little sister, Yeeun, was awake and crying. </p><p> </p><p>Each girl was given an AI to look out for them on their seventh birthday. They got to name it, and the program was installed in their rooms and in their earpieces. They also communicated with one another, which is how Mercy knew Yeeun was up—Yeeun’s AI, Nari, probably told her.</p><p> </p><p>Sure enough, Yeeun is sitting up in bed, sniffling. Yerim is surprised to see her youngest sister, Chaeeun, already at Yeeun’s bedside, trying to comfort her. Yeeun pushes her away, a little aggressively, and Chaeeun stumbles back, looking hurt.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, hey, what’s going on?” Yerim asks, holding a hand out to steady Chaeeun. </p><p> </p><p>“Had a nightmare,” Yeeun mumbles.</p><p> </p><p>“She’s being <em> mean</em>,” Chaeeun accuses. “I was awake and I heard her crying and I came in to see what was wrong but she said she didn’t want me!”</p><p> </p><p>“Sometimes it’s hard to be nice when you’re scared,” Yerim replies, smoothing Chaeeun’s hair. The door to Yeeun’s bedroom opens again, and Yerim looks up to see Yoorim rushing in.</p><p> </p><p>“Kwan woke me,” she says. “Told me all of you were in here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeeun had a nightmare, that’s all.” Yerim replies. “Can you take Chaeeun back to bed?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure.” Yoorim takes Chaeeun’s hand and leads her out of the room. Yerim turns to Yeeun.</p><p> </p><p>“Wanna tell me about your nightmare?” she asks.</p><p> </p><p>Yeeun’s crying has slowed; she picks at a loose thread on her blanket as she thinks about her response. “It was about Mom,” she says finally, and Yerim feels a piercing sympathy in her chest, paired with hurt of her own. “I was just—watching her die. Chaeeun kept strangling her. It was—it was awful—” She starts crying again. “B-because I know it’s not Chaeeun’s fault at all, but she came in right after I woke up and I just—I didn’t want anything to do with her.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay,” Yerim says softly, catching Yeeun’s tears with her fingers. “You were scared. We can all talk in the morning, when the sun is out and everyone is well-rested. I’m sure she’ll understand.”</p><p> </p><p>Yeeun nods, and they’re silent for a moment. And then—“Unnie?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>“I miss her,” Yeeun whispers, eyes downcast. “I barely even remember her, but I miss her.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know.” Yerim leans in and places a kiss on her forehead. “I miss her, too. But nothing like that is going to happen to any of us ever again. Dad made sure. So you don’t have to be afraid.” Yeeun nods solemnly. “Okay.” Yerim stands. “You have school tomorrow, so you should try to get some sleep. D’you want me to stay?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, it’s okay.” Yeeun shakes her head. “Nari will read to me. You should sleep, too. The product launch is tomorrow, isn’t it?”</p><p> </p><p>“It is,” Yerim says, smiling. “Alright, sleep well.”</p><p> </p><p>“G’night.” </p><p> </p><p>Yerim shuts the door behind her with a soft click. She looks down the hall to see Yoorim leaving Chaeeun’s room, and goes to her. They meet in the middle, and Yoorim sighs and wraps her arms around Yerim’s shoulders, pulling her in for a tight hug.</p><p> </p><p>“Is Chaeeun okay?” Yerim asks quietly.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Yoorim responds. “She’s fine. We’ll have them talk tomorrow after school.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Yerim agrees. “Yeeun’s going to sleep now. She said she dreamed about Mom.”</p><p> </p><p>“I figured.” Yoorim pulls away, though she stays close. “Are you alright?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Yerim says. “Just sleepy.”</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s go to bed, then.” Yoorim smiles. “We have to be bright and beautiful tomorrow for the launch.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sleep well.” Yerim turns and heads down the hall.</p><p> </p><p>Alone in her room, she peels her dressing gown off her shoulders and slowly makes her way back to bed. She curls up under the blankets, but she can’t fall asleep. She doesn’t know who has it worse. At times, she pities her two younger siblings because they never really knew their mother. Yeeun wasn’t quite three when their mother died giving birth to Chaeeun.</p><p> </p><p>But at other times, Yerim wonders if maybe they’re the lucky ones. She and Yoorim, who’s only one year her junior, grew up loved and cared for by their mother. Yerim was twelve when she died. Losing her left a hole in Yerim’s life that she had still failed to fill, even after nine years. How could she? Her mother was her most steadfast companion. She played with her, helped her with her schoolwork, read her to sleep while the chairman spent long nights locked away in his office, helped clean up her scrapes and bruises. Often they’d play Shipwreck in the living room, rearranging the furniture again and again until it was impossible for Yerim or Yoorim to leap from chair to chair without touching the floor. </p><p> </p><p>“The sea monster is going to eat us alive!” Yoorim would wail in an excellent display of theatrics. “Unnie, what will we do?”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re lost!” Yerim would reply. “If only this was a kind sea monster.”</p><p> </p><p>And their mother would swoop in and pretend to rise from the waves and say, “There is no sea monster here, my brave young sailors. I protect girls like you from the dangers of the open ocean. Come down to my kingdom, and all will be well.” </p><p> </p><p>Yerim and Yoorim would jump into her arms, and they would have a tea party on the floor, laughing and talking and eating their fill of sweets. When they were sleepy from the treats, their mother would carry them to bed herself, even though they had nanny bots that could do it for her. Yerim would reach out to her mother after she finished tucking her in.</p><p> </p><p>“But if you leave me,” she would whisper, “who will protect me from the ocean?”</p><p> </p><p>“Silly girl,” her mother would reply, swooping in to kiss her forehead. “I’ll always be here to save you.”</p><p> </p><p>Yerim still remembers sitting at her mother’s bedside. Chaeeun was being treated in another room; Yeeun was clinging to their father on the other side of the hospital bed, and Yoorim was at Yerim’s side, clutching her hand so tight that Yerim’s fingers were going numb. Their mother was pale, covered in a cold sweat, and her voice came out weak and croaking. She reached a trembling hand up and touched Yerim’s cheek.</p><p> </p><p>“You have to take care of them now, Yerim,” her mother said. “You have to be strong. My precious daughter.” She wiped one of Yerim’s tears away with the pad of her thumb. “Don’t cry. You’ll be okay.” She looked over her three eldest daughters. “Do you know,” she said to all of them. “I’ve always been so grateful to be given girls. I’ve been blessed with daughters. I’m sure you’ll grow up kind and intelligent and good. Do that for me, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“I want you with us, Eomma!” Yoorim sobbed.</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” their mother whispered. “I’m sorry. But you’ll have to go on without me, okay? Hm?” Yoorim had nodded, silent tears streaming down her cheeks, still chubby with baby fat. “Take your sisters, Yerim,” their mother continued. “Leave your father and me.”</p><p> </p><p>Yerim had taken Yeeun from her father, even though she fought and screamed the whole time. They waited out in the hall for what seemed like ages. Yeeun wore herself out and dozed against Yerim’s chest where the three of them sat, huddled against the wall. </p><p> </p><p>“Daddy can save her, right?” Yoorim had asked Yerim softly. “He’s smart, he can build her all the mods she needs to be healthy again.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know, Yoorim-ah,” Yerim replied, staring blankly at the opposite wall.</p><p> </p><p>Eventually, the doctors came back with a sleeping Chaeeun, and brought them all inside. Their mother held Chaeeun close, and then handed her off to their father.</p><p> </p><p>“Say goodbye to your mother,” their father had said, eyes cold and expression unreadable.</p><p> </p><p>“Goodbye?” Yoorim had asked, voice pitched high with anxiety. Yeeun began to cry again, and Chaeeun started crying, too. But Yerim did as her mother said. She balled her fists and clenched her jaw hard, and willed her tears away. She had to be strong for her sisters. </p><p> </p><p>“Come on,” she forced out softly. “Come on, it’s going to be okay.” She ushered her younger sisters forward, and they tearfully said goodbye. Yeeun was so young she hardly understood what was happening, but she hugged her mother anyway before clambering off the bed and joining Yoorim at their father’s side.</p><p> </p><p>Yerim stepped forward, and her mother fixed her with a gentle smile. “My brave young sailor,” she whispered. “You will have to find a way to be brave without me.”</p><p> </p><p>Yerim couldn’t help it; her voice cracked and a tear slipped down her cheek. “But if you leave me,” she said, “who will protect me from the ocean?”</p><p> </p><p>“Silly girl,” her mother replied, pulling her in for a hug and whispering the next words in her ear. “I’ve raised you well. Now, you will save yourself.”</p><p> </p><p>When Yerim pulled away, her mother’s eyes were closed and her breathing was shallow. They stayed by her side until her heart monitor’s beeping slowed to a flatline.</p><p> </p><p>Yeeun refused to be in the same room as Chaeeun for months. Yoorim and Yerim split their time between their two younger sisters, working with the nanny bots to run their household while their father worked. He became a little more reclusive, spending weeks at a time in his office, studying and working on more and more designs for new mods. He did research, ran experiments, and six months after her mother’s death, he rebranded the company and focused his resources away from cosmetic mods, and towards the life-saving kind. It gave him new purpose, and he spent time with his daughters again. He outfitted them with some of his newest technology to keep them safe. Their family was as whole as it could be, and for that Yerim is grateful.</p><p> </p><p>She always wonders what he did during those first, dark months. Even at her mother’s deathbed, and at her wake and her funeral, she never once saw her father cry. Sometimes, she’d catch him with his eyes glazed over, a singular crease between his brows. She wished she knew where he was in those moments, but she never knew how to ask. Gradually, these instances became fewer and further between, until things were nearly back to normal.</p><p> </p><p>And then, just when her life was becoming warm and full again, her friends closer to her than ever, her schooling complete, Seungwan had fallen ill. It was like watching her mother die all over again. Joohyun had stayed over with her for weeks after Seungwan’s death. They had grown close early on, finding kinship in the loss of a parent. Joohyun’s mother treated Yerim and her sisters as her own daughters; Yerim’s father took Joohyun to be one of his own, as well. They’d basically been sisters for years. So Joohyun slept next to her in bed, comforting her when she woke crying from another nightmare, shaking with grief.</p><p> </p><p>Yerim has a feeling her father takes Seungwan’s death to be a personal failure. She knows he wanted so badly to save her; that he saw her as his second chance. He’d been a little more taciturn since then. Yerim could hardly blame him. She was sure her father had seen her own eyes reflected in Seungwan’s, or maybe one of her sisters’.</p><p> </p><p>These days, Yerim often stays home with Yoorim to watch their younger siblings while her father and her friends go to work. She and Yoorim do modeling for ads, but that’s the extent of their involvement in the company. Yerim turns over in her bed, settling on her other side. <em> What happens when he dies? Who else would he leave the company to? </em>She’s known for years it won’t be her. She and her sisters are too precious to her father. They have to be kept, protected, in his house. They all excelled at school, and had been trained in basic self defense, but those are Yerim’s only skills. She’s a jewel, but no more.</p><p> </p><p>Most days, she’s fine with it. She understands her place. She’s meant to be proof of her father’s success, and she’s happy to be. But some days, she wants more. She knows her father expects her to marry well; she knows she will never have the freedom of choice that her friends have. There are moments where she craves it so deeply. She has no idea where that kind of emotion comes from. She doesn’t dare investigate it. Things are easier if she remains shallow and naive. People around her think her to be simple and easily satisfied. Yerim would be pleased if she could find this to be true.</p><p> </p><p>Yet, there are nights like tonight where she stares too far into herself and finds a gaping pit of hunger and sorrow so vast, she gets lost in it. It gnaws at her. It doesn’t matter how much love and kindness she fills it with; it all disappears. Nights like tonight, she’s restless, and she wants to go running barefoot over the streets of the city. She knows it’s selfish and narrow-minded of her. She has a comfortable life, a good life. And what of her sisters?</p><p> </p><p>Her mind flickers back to the night last week at the bar, and the girl that Sooyoung had pointed out to them, the one with snakes for hair. She seemed exciting. Yerim <em> yearns </em> for exciting. But she doubts she’ll ever find it. Even her dreams, full of dying mothers and hospital beds, are dull and unimaginative. She slips in and out of them until morning. </p><p> </p><p>&gt;&gt;&gt;:&lt;&lt;&lt;</p><p> </p><p>The product launch goes well, and all of Yerim’s friends come over to get ready for the afterparty. There’s a whole host of staff members busy on the first floor, so the girls retreat to Yerim’s room. Joohyun dutifully does their makeup for them while they chat with each other and Mercy.</p><p> </p><p>“Mercy, is there anyone exciting on the guest list?” Sooyoung asks as she adjusts her dress. </p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean by exciting?” Mercy asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Like celebrities!” Yerim encourages.</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s see…” Mercy is silent for a moment. “The CEO of Zeus Engineering will be attending with his wife and son. So will the CEO of Zhong Tech, along with his wife and two sons, and his older son’s wife. The Xiao brothers… Lee Jeno, and his father… the Kim brothers, Gongmyung and Doyoung… “</p><p> </p><p>“Lee Jeno,” Seulgi repeats, cutting Mercy off. “He’s that actor kid, right? He’s pretty good.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve met him once before,” Yerim supplies. “He’s nice, but a little shy.”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t want to hear about the famous doctors attending?” Mercy’s calm voice has the faintest hint of sarcasm in it, and Yerim laughs.</p><p> </p><p>Eventually, they’re done getting dressed and the chairman is calling them all downstairs. Yerim meets Yoorim in the hall and links arms with her. They’re both in sharp business suits with form-fitting, angular cut skirts. Joohyun follows behind in a stiff black jumpsuit, holding Yeeun’s hand. Yeeun is in a pretty little dress with a smart collar and sleek, matching flats. Sooyoung, in a flashy party dress, and Seulgi, in a loose suit and tie, have Chaeeun between them. Chaeeun is in a smaller version of the dress Yeeun is wearing.</p><p> </p><p>The chairman comes around the corner as they reach the bottom of the stairs and he affords them a rare, warm smile.</p><p> </p><p>“You are, each of you, the picture of beauty,” he says. “Are we all ready? I believe some members of the press are outside, which means our guests are arriving.”</p><p> </p><p>And so, the night begins. Yerim says hello so many times the word begins to feel funny in her mouth. She sees Seulgi talking with (or maybe bullying?) a couple of the boys that Mercy had mentioned. Joohyun is at the chairman’s side, talking with other businesspeople. Yoorim is escorting their younger sisters around to charm the wives of the rich and powerful men. Sooyoung is speaking to a few professors—Yerim can just make out the pins on their lapels that declare their areas of study.</p><p> </p><p>Beside them are few younger people—interns, or advisees, if Yerim had to guess. One of the young men steps away to refresh his drink and Yerim stops in her tracks, staring at the person who had been behind him. It’s the girl with the snake hair, smiling into an appetizer.</p><p> </p><p>Yerim lets her feet carry her towards them, picking up a drink as she goes so she’ll have something to do with her hands. As she draws near, she sees she recognizes one of the students—Qian Kun, who interned for one of her father’s colleagues and close friends last spring.</p><p> </p><p>He nods at her when she approaches. Yerim isn’t surprised he remembers her; he’s considerate in the truest way. “Yerim-ssi,” he greets warmly.</p><p> </p><p>“Kun-ssi,” she replies, dipping her head. “Please, don’t let me interrupt.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not interrupting,” one of the girls in the circle pipes up. “I saw the photos you did for your father’s new mod arm. You looked so beautiful!”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” Yerim says. “All I did was show up, though.” She turns to the girl with the snake hair. “I love your—your mods,” she stammers. “I had to come and introduce myself. They’re beautiful.”</p><p> </p><p>The girl turns her gaze onto Yerim, and she finds herself frozen. “Thank you,” she says with the hint of a smile. “You’re Kim Yerim, of course. I’m Yoo Hyejin. Careful of the snakes. They’re pretty, but they’re dangerous.”</p><p> </p><p>“Some of them are poisonous,” Kun supplies. </p><p> </p><p>“So you <em> are </em> a bit like Medusa, in a way,” Yerim says. “I-I’m sorry, I’ve just taken up an interest in lost mythologies. I assumed you’d be familiar..?”</p><p> </p><p>“I am.” Hyejin’s smile grows. “We have to protect ourselves from the men somehow, don’t we?” She jabs Kun in the ribs with her elbow, and Kun groans good-naturedly.</p><p> </p><p>“So, um, what do you guys do?” Yerim asks.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re all interns for different doctors,” Hyejin says. “Kun’s on his morgue quarter with Dr. Won. I’m working in the ER, shadowing Dr. Nam, and Subin is working with Dr. Tang, who’s a pediatrician.” She gestures to the girl who first spoke to Yerim.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s so cool,” Yerim says. “You all must be really smart.” She cranes her neck around. “I could introduce you to my father, if you’d like. He’s always looking for more doctors on his staff. He’s very interested in the medical uses for mods, as I’m sure you’re aware.”</p><p> </p><p>“If it’s not too much trouble,” Subin replies demurely.</p><p> </p><p>“Can I help you, Yerim-ssi?” A waiter android comes up beside her. “I can tell you the location of who you are looking for.”</p><p> </p><p>She blinks at the bot gratefully, meeting its over-bright, unsettling green gaze. “Yes, could you tell me where my father is?”</p><p> </p><p>The droid’s eyes flicker. “He’s already commenced the private meeting with shareholders and other associates,” he says. “Is it urgent?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, no,” Yerim replies. “I’ll just find him later. Thank you.” She turns back to the group. “Sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s alright,” Kun says. </p><p> </p><p>“Yerim!” Yerim feels a hand on her back and turns to see Joohyun. “There you are. Hello,” she adds to the semi-circle of interns in front of her.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re Bae Joohyun,” Subin says, excited. “Sorry, I just admire you a lot. You’re so successful for your age! And I love your fashion.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” Joohyun replies, clearly nonplussed. </p><p> </p><p>“You’ve seen the production of the whole new series of functional mods, right?” Subin continues. “The company can build an entire new person, almost. That’s so cool. Do you think Chairman Kim will be able to solve the problem of mortality?”</p><p> </p><p>Joohyun’s face grows cold, and Yerim flinches on Subin’s behalf. “What are you, the press? Who do you work for?” She takes Yerim’s arm. “Chairman Kim works to prevent the tragedy of an untimely death due to failure of natural body parts. Please don’t make his work mean more than it does: a desire to never see his daughters suffer the way his wife did. Yerim, you really should be more cautious about who you make friends with.” She tugs her a little. “Now come on, an investor wanted to speak with you.”</p><p> </p><p>Yerim allows herself to be dragged away, throwing an apologetic look over her shoulder. Kun watches impassively; Subin has her eyes trained to the floor. But Hyejin gives her an odd half-smile, doing a tiny farewell wave with the hand that isn’t holding her drink. Her snakes bob and hover lazily, shining under the lights. </p><p> </p><p>“Lighten up, Joohyun,” she says, turning back to the woman that’s marching her across the floor.</p><p> </p><p>“She was rude,” Joohyun replies. </p><p> </p><p>“Maybe, but she was just curious. Besides, the other two were nice enough! Kun is really sweet, and Hyejin is cool!” Yerim pulls her to a stop. “Seriously, it’s okay.”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t know what some people say about your father,” Joohyun says, eyes flashing. “The problem of mortality? People think he’s trying to cheat death when he’s just trying to assuage his guilt over losing your mom, losing Seungwan. Every few months, someone tries to act like he’s a maniac with a god complex when really he’s just a sad old man.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” Yerim says. </p><p> </p><p>“And even if he was trying to achieve immortality, would that be so bad?” Joohyun asks, starting to walk again. </p><p> </p><p>Yerim follows after her. “Wouldn’t it be?” she argues. “Humans die for a reason. We’re not built to last.”</p><p> </p><p>“But if we can fix ourselves so that we are,” Joohyun says, “why shouldn’t we?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know,” Yerim mutters as they draw near to the investors. “At that point, how much of the human is left?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>in the words of one of my beta readers... ah... the old ship of Theseus LOL...</p><p>come say hey on <a href="https://kjmsupremacist.tumblr.com/about">tumblr</a> or on <a href="https://twitter.com/_kjmsupremacist">twitter</a>! I also have a <a href="https://curiouscat.me/kjmsupremacist">curiouscat</a> ^^</p><p>thank u as always for reading :) i know there's only a few of u but your strong support is really invaluable to me!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A couple days after the launch party for UltraViolet’s new arm, Jungwoo finally has a day to sleep in, and he takes full advantage, turning off all his devices so his sleep won’t be disturbed. He wakes late, and takes his time getting out of bed and eating his breakfast. It’s well past 14.00 when he’s finished putting everything away, and it’s only then he thinks to check his phone and bring systems back off Do Not Disturb. He finds a bunch of missed calls and text messages.</p><p> </p><p>His stomach drops as he scans over them. <em> Jaehyun is missing</em>. <em> Jaehyun is missing. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Shit,” Jungwoo mutters. “Shit, shit, shit.” He knows he personally didn’t leave any footprints on the security systems—nothing identifiable, anyway—but it wouldn’t be too difficult for people to find out who Jaehyun met the night before the break-in. With Jeonghun locked away for good, and Jaehyun gone, Jungwoo is the only one that knows anything of the murder. </p><p> </p><p>His phone rings again, making him jump. It’s only Johnny, though, and he takes a breath and accepts the call.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, where are you?” Jungwoo is surprised to be met with Yukhei’s voice; he sounds a little panicked. “I’m five minutes away from your place, and I hope you’re there.” </p><p> </p><p>“I’m here, sorry. I had all my shit off, I just forgot to turn it back on when I woke up.” Jungwoo looks around. “I’m gonna mess around with my security settings. Are you with Johnny?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, and Ten and Doyoung.”</p><p> </p><p>There’s fumbling, and then Jungwoo hears, a little fainter, “You bitch, you had me worried!” It’s Ten, of course.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine, I’m so sorry. This is good, actually, I haven’t put my leftovers from, uh, lunch away yet, so you guys can just eat them for me,” Jungwoo says. “I’ll see all of you soon, then.”</p><p> </p><p>They hang up, and Jungwoo sighs, pulling the food back out of the fridge and setting it to heat up in the oven. “Athena?” His AI dings in response. “Jam all my mics and enact a level one security protocol. I’ll be having guests, but we’re talking about something important.”</p><p> </p><p>Athena plays a little affirmative tone. His windows gain a tint, and soft music begins to play over the speakers. Athena continues to work quietly in the background while Jungwoo takes the food out of the oven and sets out bowls and chopsticks.</p><p> </p><p>A tone plays. “Wong Yukhei, Li Ten, Kim Doyoung, and Seo Johnny are requesting access.” </p><p> </p><p>“Live video feed?” Jungwoo asks, turning around. The hologram pops up in the middle of the kitchen, and he sees his four friends, all wearing worried expressions. “Thank you, let them up.”</p><p> </p><p><em> What am I going to tell them? </em> He promised Jaehyun he wouldn’t breathe a word, and he’d intended to keep that promise. Why wouldn’t he? It would put all of them in danger. He hadn’t even told Yukhei; hadn’t mentioned his meetings with Jaehyun to anyone, not even after Jaehyun had gone reclusive.</p><p> </p><p>But clearly, the secrecy hadn’t protected any of them, because now Jaehyun is gone. Jungwoo knows Jaehyun’s not a bad person, and he knows the only reason he’s gone is because he got too close to the truth. None of them are safe. It won’t do any of them any good to keep the wool pulled over their eyes. At this point, the more people who know, the harder it will be for those in charge to stop them. Besides, everyone needs to be on guard.</p><p> </p><p>The doorbell chimes. “Let them in,” Jungwoo says, somewhat absently, wandering to the door to greet them.</p><p> </p><p>“Jungwoo.” Yukhei is first, and he kicks his shoes off and engulfs Jungwoo in a tight hug. “God, I was so worried.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Jungwoo repeats, rubbing his back. “I didn’t know anything was going on.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is it—safe to talk?” Doyoung asks quietly.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” Jungwoo nods. “Athena already set up security.” He jerks his head towards the windows. “People can’t even see in.”</p><p> </p><p>“Some droids can scan past window tint, you know,” Ten says.</p><p> </p><p>Athena chimes, clearly offended. “It’s more than a visible shield, Ten-ssi,” she says. “It’s electronic as well; it blocks most signals from getting in or out. Your friend here designed it himself.”</p><p> </p><p>Jungwoo smiles faintly. “So it’s perfect, is what she’s saying.” Yukhei releases him. “Come on into the kitchen, the food’s getting cold.”</p><p> </p><p>They all settle around his table and dig in. Jungwoo sips at tea while he waits for them to settle, lost deep in thought.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay.” Ten says after a minute. “I already ate, so let me catch you up.” He sets his chopsticks down. “Earlier today, Jisung went to check in on Jaehyun. He had to pick the lock to get inside. Jaehyun was gone. All his things were still there; the apartment was in great shape, so no signs of struggle. The only odd thing he found was an overturned teacup under his coffee table. He went to Taeyong immediately, and Taeyong called me, and then Johnny. I was at Jeno’s with a few of the others; Johnny was with these two. Taeyong’s headed to Kun’s now, with Jisung and Mark, where he’s going to meet Sicheng, Yuta, Shotaro, and Kunhang. Renjun and Sungchan have been notified, and they’re on their way to Jeno’s now.” Ten shakes his head. “Jeno’s place kind of unsettles me, so I decided to come with these three.”</p><p> </p><p>“I have something I need to tell you guys,” Jungwoo blurts, and they all pop their heads up to stare at him.</p><p> </p><p>“What a coincidence,” Doyoung replies slowly. “So do I.”</p><p> </p><p>“Jungwoo first,” Johnny says. “You’re still eating.”</p><p> </p><p>Jungwoo takes a deep breath, and begins explaining what Jaehyun told him that night a few weeks ago. “They knew it was him because the day after the murder, he went in to speak with one of the deputies at the main station. He only got more questions.” Jungwoo flicks his eyes up. “So he called me. He asked me to help him get into the holding cells so he could speak with Jeonghun. I did, and I promised I wouldn’t tell anybody anything. I don’t know what he found. I think he thought it was safer not to tell me. I deleted camera footage, erased the night from the memory drives of the droids I used. It’ll be hard for them to trace it to me, but not impossible.” </p><p> </p><p>“So <em> you’re </em> the one he recruited to help.” Doyoung puts his chopsticks down across his empty bowl. “Glad I’m not the only one harboring a secret. After he went to Jeonghun, he came to Kun, who asked me to assist him. Basically, Jeonghun saw something strange—the CEO of UltraViolet, bent over a case of what looked like bloody human arms. He was told it was part of a special droid repair, and he was paid for his silence. But his wife, Eunji, was a researcher for hire. While Jeonghun was at work, she was digging for answers. They received an anonymous threat, with a symbol drawn on the corner—a symbol that matched a tattoo they’d seen on multiple people connected to this case.</p><p> </p><p>“Eunji convinced Jeonghun to take out mutual life insurance policies, just in case. They upped their security, changed the locks. And then Eunji was murdered when she was home alone.” Doyoung pauses for a breath. “So that’s why Jaehyun went to Kun—to get a real autopsy, because he didn’t trust the police to file an unedited one. Kun needed me because he needed the cameras off. Just like with you, there’s no solid proof we were involved, though there’s a possibility that they could put it together.</p><p> </p><p>“We did the autopsy. The official report lists her stab wounds and subsequent organ failure and blood loss as her cause of death. But Kun found something different. She was dead prior to the stabbing. There was internal trauma to the brain, which Kun concluded would have likely been from damage to a mod connected to her nervous system. There’s no record of any mods, but since Eunji was a researcher, it’s likely she had some kind of head implant—maybe bootlegged—with internet access, so that she could do research while doing chores or something.”</p><p> </p><p>“Holy shit,” Johnny says quietly. “So—no way Jeonghun killed her. It was a setup.”</p><p> </p><p>Doyoung shrugs, spreading his hands. “Sure sounds like it.”</p><p> </p><p>“What did the tattoo look like?” Ten asks.</p><p> </p><p>“No idea. Jaehyun didn’t say,” Doyoung answers. “I wish we knew. Maybe Yuta could help us; it might be gang-related.”</p><p> </p><p>Ten wrinkles his nose. “I’m not sure I’d trust Yuta with that kind of sensitive information.”</p><p> </p><p>“We have to trust each other,” Yukhei says firmly. “It’s one of the only things we have.”</p><p> </p><p>Jungwoo nods. “I agree.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m worried he’ll be rash. I’m worried some of <em> you </em> will be rash,” Ten says.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s there to be rash about?” Johnny asks. “We have to do <em> something</em>. Two of our loved ones are missing; how many more is it going to take?” His voice is hard and fearful. “What if it was Taeyong, Ten? What if it was Tern?” Ten just drops his head to his hands. “It could very well be Taeyong next, and you know it!”</p><p> </p><p>“Why?” Yukhei asks.</p><p> </p><p>“He saw something similar—what looked like human body parts, being passed off to that scientist he collects for,” Johnny says, silencing the indignant look Ten gives him with a raised hand. “They need to know. He’s in no more danger now than he was a minute ago—in fact, he’s probably safer, because he’ll have more people watching his back.”</p><p> </p><p>“I agree with Johnny,” Jungwoo pipes up. “That’s why I chose to tell you guys what I know today. It’s too late to try to go through official channels; clearly, that doesn’t work. It’s too late to try and step back from it now. We can’t turn a blind eye. We can’t keep letting them pick us off one by one—first Johnny’s dad, then the Chois, and now Jaehyun. The only way we get through this, from here on out, is together.”</p><p> </p><p>“We need to know what the others know,” Doyoung says.</p><p> </p><p>“We need a place where we can talk in private,” Ten adds. “This is good, but it won’t hold all twenty-two of us.”</p><p> </p><p><em> Twenty-two </em>. They’re silent for a moment. For the last few years now, it’s been twenty-three; twenty-three birthdays celebrated, twenty-three families to become acquainted with, twenty-three boys growing into men. Even in such a big group, one missing person feels like a terrible, gaping hole.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay.” Jungwoo reaches for the pad and paper. “Who do we know that has a place that is both spacious enough to fit all of us, and with high enough security that we can talk in peace?”</p><p> </p><p>“Jeno,” Doyoung says immediately.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, that’s an option. His parents like to hover, though.” Jungwoo jots it down.</p><p> </p><p>“Chenle,” Johnny supplies. “Though his parents also like to hover.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not in the same way Jeno’s do, though,” Jungwoo points out. “I like them better than Jeno’s.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know how welcome I am at Jeno’s anyway,” Yukhei points out with a stifled snicker. “Not after the Great Vomit Catastrophe of last year.”</p><p> </p><p>“What about Dejun?” Ten suggests, pointedly ignoring Yukhei’s commentary. “His parents are really chill, and they don’t work in any of those corporations—no offense, Jungwoo—and they have a pretty big house, so we could just take over, like, the upper floor now that his brother’s moved out.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” Johnny says. “That’s a really good idea, actually.”</p><p> </p><p>“I should probably go over early to see what I can do with their security systems,” Jungwoo says. “I’ll call him and ask about hosting a house party.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sounds good,” Doyoung agrees. “Let’s all say tentatively tomorrow night? Everyone clear their afternoons and evenings.”</p><p> </p><p>“Works for me,” Yukhei says. “I have no plans.”</p><p> </p><p>“I stream tonight, so I’m fine,” Johnny adds.</p><p> </p><p>Ten just shrugs, and Jungwoo nods. “I’ll call Dejun now. He’s still at Jeno’s right? That way we can pass on the message easily.”</p><p> </p><p>“And I’ll call Kun,” Doyoung replies, getting up and wandering over to the living room.</p><p> </p><p>Johnny clears the table while the phone rings. Yukhei reaches his hand out to Jungwoo, and Jungwoo takes it with the hand that isn’t holding his slim cell phone. Jungwoo gets confirmation from Dejun, and Doyoung reenters the room shortly after to inform them that everyone at Kun’s will be available as well.</p><p> </p><p>They nod at each other, fidgeting in place, letting a sort of expectant silence fall over the room. Jungwoo knows they all need to go their separate ways, warn their families, and get things in order. But he doesn’t want to be alone; he also doesn’t want to let his friends out of his sight. It’s clear the feeling is mutual. Then, Johnny sighs heavily.</p><p> </p><p>“I should probably get going. We’ll all talk tomorrow,” he says. “I need to chat with my mom.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I should speak with my family as well,” Ten agrees, standing. “Thank you for the food, Woo.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s no problem,” Jungwoo says, waving him off. “You’re saving me space in my fridge.”</p><p> </p><p>Doyoung tugs Jungwoo to his feet, wrapping him in a hug. “See you tomorrow,” he says quietly. There’s an edge to his voice; it’s almost a plea. <em> Please be there tomorrow. </em> Jungwoo feels an anxious lurch in his stomach. </p><p> </p><p>They all head to get their shoes and coats on while Yukhei lingers by the table. “I’m gonna go talk to my family. But then is it okay if I come back? I don’t want you alone in this big apartment.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course it’s okay. I want you here,” Jungwoo replies. “Do you want me to come with?” Sometimes it’s nice to have a hand to hold when it comes time for a difficult conversation.</p><p> </p><p>But Yukhei shakes his head. “No, it’s alright. I think your presence may scare them.” He leans in and presses a kiss to Jungwoo’s cheek. “See you in a bit, ‘kay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Jungwoo whispers back, waving at the three of them as they step out of his door.</p><p> </p><p>When the door clicks shut, unexpected tears prick behind Jungwoo’s eyes. <em> What’s happening to us? </em> he thinks as he sinks back down into the chair. <em> Why is this happening to us? </em> He suddenly feels very small. He’s just a guy, mixed up in shit he didn’t mean to disturb, and now it’s too late. <em> Well, I suppose if this is the way things are, I’d rather know about it than remain ignorant. </em>He sighs, rubbing his face with his hands. This whole time, he’d been hoping it would all blow over quickly—that some judicial system would correct the mistake in Jeonghun’s case, that Johnny’s father would turn up safe and sound, that Jisung’s mom’s accident was just that, an accident. But it’s evident now that this is much bigger than he’d initially hoped. There’s no way around the tangled web of violence and mystery he and his friends have found themselves caught in. The only way out is through.</p><p> </p><p>&gt;&gt;&gt;:&lt;&lt;&lt;</p><p> </p><p>The next morning dawns bright and cold. Jungwoo had been hoping to sleep in, if for no other reason than to be unconscious for as long as possible, but his dreams were filled with terror, and he is wrenched awake just after sunrise. </p><p> </p><p>Yukhei, at least, seems to be sleeping well, so Jungwoo contents himself in watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, tracing over his relaxed face. <em> How cruel the world has been</em>, he thinks to himself, relaxing back down into the pillow, still gazing at Yukhei. <em> But it’s like you said. Whenever things are bad, I remember you. </em></p><p> </p><p>He must lie there for an hour at least, just blinking tiredly at Yukhei’s sleeping form, quelling his fear for the time being. Eventually, Yukhei stirs, and blinks his big eyes open at Jungwoo, a sweet smile spreading across his face.</p><p> </p><p>“G’morning,” he says. </p><p> </p><p>“Hi,” Jungwoo whispers back. “I’m glad you stayed the night.”</p><p> </p><p>“Me, too,” Yukhei replies, fumbling around for one of Jungwoo’s hands. “We’re all we have, anyway.”</p><p> </p><p>They eat breakfast quietly, and then Jungwoo works on reorganizing his guest room. “I want to make a bunker,” he says. “A place I can hide in case they connect me to Jaehyun.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you think Jaehyun would tell them?” Yukhei asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Not unless they can extract his memories,” Jungwoo replies. “Which, luckily, we don’t have the tech for yet, as far as I know. Still, though, he doesn’t have to tell them for them to figure it out.”</p><p> </p><p>They kill time this way, sketching out designs for how Jungwoo can redo his apartment. “Won’t they be able to break through your locks like they did with Jaehyun?” Yukhei points out.</p><p> </p><p>“No, because Jaehyun didn’t have my resources or my brain behind his security system, unfortunately,” Jungwoo says, not trying to sound smug.</p><p> </p><p>They have a quick lunch, and then set out towards Dejun’s. It’s a short train ride away, and Dejun’s mother greets them at the door. “He’s upstairs,” she says kindly. “Can I get you anything to eat? To drink?”</p><p> </p><p>“We just ate, but thank you,” Jungwoo replies, pulling Yukhei along, through the foyer and up the stairs. Dejun’s popped his head out of his room and waves as they come down the hall. </p><p> </p><p>“Thought we could use the old game room,” he says, beckoning them inside. “I’ve turned it into a conference room of sorts. Come see.”</p><p> </p><p>Jungwoo follows him in, Yukhei on his heels. Dejun’s cleaned up the room and pushed some tables together to create enough space for all of them to sit and face one another. He has a little holo projector sitting on the table, and a laptop plugged into the wall. </p><p> </p><p>“For me to mess around?” Jungwoo asks, pointing at it.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Dejun says. “Go ahead.”</p><p> </p><p>“What system do you use?” he asks as he settles into a chair, pulling the computer onto his lap.</p><p> </p><p>“Same as you,” Dejun says. “Athena, from Zeus Engineering.”</p><p> </p><p>The system chimes to life—a different tone than Jungwoo is used to, but the same voice comes over the speakers. “How may I assist you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hi, Athena,” Jungwoo says, pulling up the program on the laptop. “I’m going to be doing a couple of system upgrades for you.”</p><p> </p><p>Yukhei and Dejun hang out in the corner, chatting in Cantonese while Jungwoo works. It’s soothing background noise. He’s gone through this so thoroughly with his own Athena that it’s simple; he adds controls over the window tints, putting in the code for the electrical jamming shield as well. He finishes quickly—he didn’t realize Dejun had the same system, or he wouldn’t have come so early.</p><p> </p><p>Still, it’s fine, because once he’s done, they just end up talking while they wait for the others to arrive. “I heard Kun’s compiled everything we all know, and is planning to present it to us,” Dejun says with a half-fond, half-exasperated grin. “And then we can add on at the end. I think Doyoung told him whatever you guys told him last night.”</p><p> </p><p>“Very Kun of him,” Yukhei says, shaking his head.</p><p> </p><p>“Probably efficient though,” Jungwoo muses. “I only have a rough idea of the timeline. If Kun compiled everything, it’ll probably be easier for all of us to understand.”</p><p> </p><p>The others begin to filter in right around three. Dejun goes out to the landing of the stairs to herd them in, while Jungwoo and Yukhei sit quietly. Normally, group gatherings like these are raucous and noisy. Today, though, everyone is subdued. It’s not that Jungwoo is surprised, it’s just that he never really imagined they’d get to this point. Even the ones that always found a way to be funny are silent today. </p><p> </p><p>Kun takes a seat near the head of the table and boots up the projector. He slides the mini projectors across the table to those already seated; there’s about enough for one per every two people. Jungwoo catches theirs and puts it between himself and Yukhei, trying not to fidget.</p><p> </p><p>The noise of soft conversation swells as more and more people arrive. Finally, Dejun appears in the doorway, doing a quick headcount. “That’s all of us,” he says, and everyone settles down.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright.” Kun taps the dock of the projector; holos light up around the table. “I’ve compiled everything I know. If I’m missing something, please feel free to fill in. I’ll be as brief as I can.”</p><p> </p><p>He taps again, and a picture of Choi Jeonghun and Eunji appear on their projectors. Kun launches into an explanation of what happened to the Chois, but when he gets to the part about the anonymous threat marked by a strange symbol, the image on their holos changes to a rotating rendering of what appears to be a half sun; it feels familiar to Jungwoo, but he can’t place it. “This is the symbol. Jaehyun went to Renjun to ask if he’d ever seen it before, and Renjun passed it on to Yuta. Yuta found that it’s the mark of some sort of gang. His father wouldn’t give the name.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Jungwoo raises his hand. “It looks familiar to me,” Jungwoo says. “Though this is the first time I’ve heard about it in this context. I just—wanted to put that out there. I know I’ve seen this before, I just don’t know where.”</p><p> </p><p>“I wouldn’t be surprised if it had something to do with your father,” Kun replies. “As we all know,” he continues, moving them to the next image: Jeonghun’s mugshot. “Eunji was killed shortly after, and Jeonghun was framed for her murder. Jaehyun was the one who received the call. He was intercepted halfway through his initial investigation of the scene by police from the city center, and told to go back to the station. He did some research, checking over security cameras, and determined there was no way Jeonghun could have killed his wife.” An image of an unknown woman replaces Jeonghun’s mugshot. “This is Deputy 24, the woman in charge of the case. Jaehyun went to speak with her the next morning. She showed him the tapes, but there was a whole chunk missing this time around that Jaehyun was <em> certain </em> hadn’t been there the night before. She also revealed Jeonghun had taken out a life insurance policy on his wife a few days before her murder.”</p><p> </p><p>“Her!” Johnny exclaims. “She’s the one my mother saw the other day when she went to ask about my father’s case. Our normal officer wasn’t there, and she snapped at my mother and told her to go home and stop wasting their time on a deadbeat loser.” He frowns. “She was really fucking mean.”</p><p> </p><p>“I wish I had more for you on her,” Kun says. “All I know is that Jaehyun didn’t enjoy his encounter with her either. He said she insinuated that she knew something about your father’s disappearance, and that Jaehyun himself could be next if he didn’t tread lightly.” Jungwoo shivers to himself. He remembers Jaehyun recounting this to him a few short weeks ago in the park. “Anyway, Jaehyun went to Jungwoo for help so he could get into Jeonghun’s holding cell. They succeeded, and Jeonghun told him about the trade, the threat, the setup. Jaehyun came to me the next day and asked if I could perform an autopsy.”</p><p> </p><p>The images change again, this time to two medical documents. “The official report lists her cause of death as the stabbing. But I found out that it was actual internal trauma to her brain, probably from an undocumented chip that was hacked and fried. Whoever did the initial autopsy had removed it.” Kun sighs. “And then two weeks later, Jaehyun goes missing. Meanwhile, Taeyong has seen something similar—bloodied human body parts passed off to a government official. Johnny’s father is still missing, and someone is watching their unit. Mark’s getting the impression the government is hiding or hoarding our food and letting our land stay poisoned and infertile.” He spreads his hands. “That’s all I have. If anyone has any information I haven’t covered, now’s the time.”</p><p> </p><p>“So Chairman Kim is at the center of this, somehow,” Ten says. “And the scientist Taeyong works for, he’s involved.”</p><p> </p><p>“I was at the launch party a few days ago, for UltraViolet’s new mod arm,” Kun says. “So were a few of you. Did you see anything?”</p><p> </p><p>“My father was in a long meeting with the chairman. I assumed it was just a private party for his closest associates, but…” Jungwoo shakes his head uneasily. “I don’t know. It’s not like my father tells me anything like that.”</p><p> </p><p>“My father was also in that meeting,” Chenle says.</p><p> </p><p>“So was mine,” Jeno pipes up. “Which is odd, because he’s not in business; he’s in government.”</p><p> </p><p>“I was chatting with one of the lead mechanics,” Dejun offers. “Kang Seulgi? She kind of scares me, but not like this. She didn’t mention anything strange.”</p><p> </p><p>“I spoke briefly with the chairman’s eldest, Yerim,” Kun says. “One of her friends, another employee of the company, Bae Joohyun, came to collect her. One of the other interns asked her about the work the chairman does, and asked if she thought UltraViolet would succeed in solving the problem of mortality. Joohyun snapped at her and dragged Yerim away.” Kun frowns to himself. “I couldn’t tell if it was because she was trying to hide something, or if she was just genuinely sick of getting those kinds of questions. It is a little insensitive, after all, given what happened to the chairman’s wife.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know Joohyun,” Jungwoo says. “Not well, but I know that though she may seem harsh and even cruel, she really just has a strong sense of righteousness. If the company is hiding something like that, I don’t think she knows about it.”</p><p> </p><p>They’re all silent for a moment, thinking. Then, Doyoung reaches over and turns the holos off. “We probably shouldn’t all congregate like this for very long. Might seem suspicious. Everyone, keep your eyes and ears out. If you find something, you share it with somebody else <em> immediately. </em>Jaehyun tried to keep what he knew a secret, and look where it got him. We’re lucky we were able to piece it together, but it’s only because he told fragments to different people. If he had tried to do it all on his own, we’d be in the same danger, but we wouldn’t even know it.” There are murmurs of agreement around the table as they slide their projectors back to Kun, who arranges them in the dock. </p><p> </p><p>“There has to be something we can do, isn’t there?” Yuta asks. “Instead of just waiting around for something to happen to us?”</p><p> </p><p>“Kun and I will be going over the autopsy results, and any other old medical records we can find,” Doyoung says, nodding. “Those of you with a connection to the chairman’s family, or any of their close friends, see if you can’t find something out from them.”</p><p> </p><p>“I was thinking of finding out more about this gang,” Yuta says.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s awfully risky of you,” Ten says, cutting him a glare. “If your father said not to dig, maybe it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie.”</p><p> </p><p>“They’re not sleeping, though, are they?” Yuta stands. “You don’t have to get involved. I want to know the truth.” He pushes his chair in. “Thank you for hosting, Dejun. And thank you, Kun, for the summary. I have errands to run, unfortunately.” He bows as he walks out the door, Shotaro on his heels.</p><p> </p><p>They all stand slowly, collecting their things. The air is tense and thick; Yukhei links their arms and sticks close as they find their way down the stairs.</p><p> </p><p>“You gonna be okay?” Jungwoo asks him.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” Jungwoo is relieved to see that Yukhei’s eyes are bright with determination. “I’m gonna ask some of my fellow bootleggers if they know anything about Eunji’s mod. I know a guy who specializes in those brain chips.”</p><p> </p><p>“Just be safe,” Jungwoo says.</p><p> </p><p>Yukhei’s gaze darkens a little. “I’m more worried about you,” he says. “I think your father’s hiding something.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry,” Jungwoo replies wearily, patting his hand as they step out onto the street. “I think so too.”</p><p> </p><p>&gt;&gt;&gt;:&lt;&lt;&lt;</p><p> </p><p>Going back to work feels almost like walking to his own execution, but things are running as they normally are when Jungwoo arrives the next morning. His father is in meetings all day, so Jungwoo won’t be interrupted as he tinkers away in the workshop. It seems odd to just go back to work as if nothing is wrong, but in a way, it’s soothing to him, to do what he knows. </p><p> </p><p>His hopes of an interruption-free day are shattered when the doorbell rings. “Delivery for President Kim.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks, Athena, I’ll get it,” Jungwoo says wearily, reluctantly putting his tools down. He dusts off his hands as he takes the stairs two at a time up to the door.</p><p> </p><p>“Sajangnim?” The delivery bot asks, holding out the package.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s my father,” Jungwoo replies. “I’ll take it, thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>“It is supposed to be delivered directly to the President,” the bot insists.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m his son,” Jungwoo repeats, interest now piqued. “The President won’t be available until late this evening. I’ll make sure it gets to him. Seems kind of important, right? Maybe sensitive. Wouldn’t want that floating around. I’ll take it.”</p><p> </p><p>The bot gives him a sort of surveying glance with its singular blue eye, and then acquiesces. It relinquishes the box and zips away. </p><p> </p><p>Jungwoo staggers a little under its weight. For a medium sized box, it’s quite heavy. He uses his hip to close the workshop doors and makes his way back downstairs with a precarious grip on the package. <em> Probably new parts</em>, he thinks as he shuffles over to a table. <em> What else could be this heavy? </em>He grabs a knife off the table and slices the box open. A strange, light smell begins to emanate from it, and he leans over to take a closer look, prying the lid back. </p><p> </p><p>It’s a bunch of mod limbs, from the look of it. “Athena,” Jungwoo says, rooting around in the box. The texture of the limbs feels a little odd; somehow off. “Where is this shipment from?”</p><p> </p><p>“There isn’t anything on the return information,” Athena replies. “Just that it was scheduled to arrive today and to go straight to your father.”</p><p> </p><p>“Weird,” Jungwoo mutters. “He must’ve forgotten. Sounds like he really needed these. They look like the mods from UltraViolet, but…” Jungwoo trails off as he turns one of the arms over and looks down at the blunt end, where it would attach to the shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>Instead of seeing a bunch of wiring like he was expecting, he sees <em> bone</em>—or at least, something that looks very similar. He drops it, gasping, and takes a couple of steps back. <em> Oh fuck. Oh my fucking god. That was real human flesh. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Oh my <em> god</em>!” he says aloud, tentatively approaching the box again. He fumbles for a pair of tongs, and turns a few more of the limbs over. Unless it’s really good tech, he’s not mistaken. Bile rises in the back of his throat. <em> At least they’re not bloody, like the ones Taeyong saw. What the fuck are they for? And why does my father need them? </em>“Maybe it’s… a prank?” he wonders to himself. “Athena,” he says, voice shaking. “Could you scan these please? Tell me what they’re made of.”</p><p> </p><p>“Certainly. Please step back.” Jungwoo puts the tongs down and moves a few paces away. Athena runs a few tests, thin blue laser lights sweeping over the box. “It appears to be organic material,” Athena announces a few moments later. “I would have to do a more in-depth scan to find the specifics. Would you like me to do so?”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Jungwoo says quickly. “I’ll just ask my father.” He gingerly closes the box, trying not to gag, and goes to wash his hands. </p><p> </p><p><em> Okay, so maybe it’s made from other animal products. Maybe what I thought was bone just has wiring inside. I didn’t get a close look, after all. Besides, how could you preserve human body parts like that without them getting gross or decaying? </em>Jungwoo’s mind is racing. But as much as he tries to rationalize it in his head, he knows somewhere deep in his gut that it’s all just stuff he’s making up to make himself feel better. He feels shaky and weak, and it’s only by the grace of his stabilizers that he’s able to continue working without hurting himself.</p><p> </p><p>He stays at the workshop late, until he knows his father is almost done with his meetings, and then walks down the street to wait for him in the lobby. Most of their employees have gone home, so the building is a little deserted. It feels eerie, though perhaps it’s all in Jungwoo’s mind.</p><p> </p><p>Finally, he hears his father’s voice floating down the hall, and he watches as he rounds the corner with another man. The man is wearing a face covering and has the hood of his coat up, so all that’s visible are his eyes. He’s putting his gloves on, but Jungwoo catches a glimpse of something inked onto the back of one of his hands. </p><p> </p><p>“Jungwoo.” His father stops short when he sees him, and turns to bow to his companion. “Apologies. I thought the building would be empty by now. This is my son, so you need not fear for your privacy.”</p><p> </p><p>The man only gives him a short, dismissive nod, sweeping his sharp eyes over Jungwoo before striding out of the building without another word.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry,” Jungwoo says quickly. “I didn’t know your meeting was so sensitive.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s fine,” his father replies shortly. “It’s better than if a random employee had stumbled by. Why are you here so late?”</p><p> </p><p>“A package came for you today,” Jungwoo says. “It’s at the workshop. I opened it because I thought it might be new parts, but when I opened it…”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” His father’s gaze and tone are steely.</p><p> </p><p>“Perhaps we should speak in private,” Jungwoo says. “Come to the workshop with me.”</p><p> </p><p>His father buttons up his coat, brows furrowed, and follows him out the door. “Whatever you’re thinking, Jungwoo, I assure you it’s not that serious,” his father says quietly as they walk down the street. Jungwoo doesn’t reply, the uneasy feeling only growing in his stomach and mixing with anger.</p><p> </p><p>“There.” Jungwoo points to the box, sitting where he left it, when they get down into the workspace. “Open it and tell me it isn’t what I think it is. Because I’ve been hearing things, <em> Abeoji</em>, and I don’t like what it’s made me think.”</p><p> </p><p>His father opens the box placidly and looks inside, then raises his head, laughing. “You’re too easily swayed,” he says, tone derisive. “I thought I raised you better than that. These are a few prototypes I ordered from a different company. They’re made of synthetic flesh grown in a lab.”</p><p> </p><p>“They don’t feel like it. And Athena said it wasn’t synthetic. If it was, she would have found the patent somewhere on it,” Jungwoo argues. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re not supposed to be able to feel the difference, that’s the whole point,” his father replies. “Athena?”</p><p> </p><p>Athena chimes in response. “Yes, sir?”</p><p> </p><p>Jungwoo’s father turns one of the arms over in his hands, holding Jungwoo’s gaze. “Reboot. Erase backups from today. Clearly, you had a glitch.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, sir.” Athena chimes again, and goes silent.</p><p> </p><p>Jungwoo stares. “Don’t fucking lie to me.” He takes a step forward. “I know those aren’t fake. You know it, too. What’s going on here?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know it,” his father says evenly, replacing the arm in the box, closing it, and picking it up. “Scrub the horror from your eyes. There’s nothing here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Does Eommni know?” Jungwoo asks, voice low, chilled by his father’s cold, blatant manner.</p><p> </p><p>“There’s nothing for her to know.” His father steps closer to him. “Don’t go running to her with this absurd story, or I’ll have to conclude you are extremely disturbed. Certainly not fit to take on this company.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe I don’t want it,” Jungwoo spits, and his father laughs again.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you think there’s a place for you in this city if you don’t want it?” he asks. “Maybe you <em> are </em>disturbed. Would you like to visit the place where those with incurable madness go?”</p><p> </p><p>“What could you possibly put me in a mental institution for?” Jungwoo asks, turning as his father side-steps around him.</p><p> </p><p>“Delusion of some conspiracy,” his father says as he walks back toward the stairs. “Fantasies of violence.”</p><p> </p><p>“Like Choi Jeonghun.” Jungwoo can’t help it; he needs to know. “And my <em> friend</em>, Jaehyun. Were you involved in that, too?”</p><p> </p><p>His father freezes, halfway up the stairs. He’s silent for a moment, and then turns to look at Jungwoo. His expression is strange; it makes Jungwoo feel like an icicle has been pressed to the nape of his neck. “How could you, my own son, accuse me so viciously?” His voice is soft. “Did you forget your place?” Jungwoo can’t answer. He snaps his gaze down to his feet, lips pressed together. His father sighs. “Go home,” he says. “Get some sleep. You’re tired, and worried for your friend, and you don’t know what you’re saying. We’ll forget this conversation ever happened.”</p><p> </p><p>And with that, he’s gone. Jungwoo waits until he hears the door click shut upstairs before he dares move. He runs to the sink, and heaves until there’s nothing left for him to vomit. He runs the water, turning on the disposal, and washes it away, rinsing his mouth out, a few tears sneaking out of the corners of his eyes. Even with his stabilizers, his hands are shaking. <em> Where did it all go so wrong? </em>he thinks. Part of him wishes he had just taken the day off, or that the stupid bot had insisted on keeping the package. He would’ve probably forgotten all about it, and then he’d have never found out.</p><p> </p><p>Jungwoo knows it’s better this way, though. It’s important, and if it <em> is </em>parts from a real person, he knows he owes it to whoever they are to find out what happened. He pads around the workshop, cleaning up, and bends down to get his bag. “Athena? Are you back online?” Athena chimes in affirmation. “Lock up for me. I’m heading home.”</p><p> </p><p>He hurries up the stairs, bundling his coat around himself, clutching his back with both hands, and begins the walk across the city. The bag is heavy with his theft and the dark secret it carries; his tools do not clank, pressed into place by the wrapped limb Jungwoo had smuggled from the box before he went to meet his father. It’s just as well his father wiped Athena’s memory from the day. Now there’s no record. As long as there was no itemized list, his father will never know the difference.</p><p> </p><p>He shifts the bag to one hand so he can dig his phone out of his pocket. He dials Kun, and waits for him to pick up. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes?”</p><p> </p><p>“Can I swing by tomorrow?” Jungwoo asks, hoping his tone says enough.</p><p> </p><p>Kun is clever, so he understands. “Sure. Come by whenever you like. I have the day off, and I’m an early riser.”</p><p> </p><p>“Tell a friend,” Jungwoo says. “It’ll be big.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay.” Kun pauses. “Get home safe.”</p><p> </p><p>“I will.” Jungwoo ends the call as he rounds the corner into the shopping district. There are a lot of people out, even though it’s a weekday night, and it takes Jungwoo a moment to realize why. A cold, white flake hits the tip of his nose. He stops walking and looks up, realizing he never checked the weather. It’s a scheduled snowfall, the first of the season. He closes his eyes, letting the sharp chill of the snow soothe him as it clings to his eyelashes. He hugs his bag to his chest. </p><p> </p><p><em> I’m sorry you weren’t around to see it</em>, he thinks. He’s not sure if he’s directing this to the people these body parts belonged to, or to the Chois, or Johnny’s dad, or Jaehyun, wherever the hell they may be. He starts walking again, keeping his eyes on the road so he doesn’t slip. <em> Though maybe it wouldn’t help. What use is any sort of beauty amidst horror except to taunt us? Perhaps it’s best we all remember the world to be a dark and terrible place. It spares us the grief of parting, and the desperation to cling.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Maybe Johnny’s dad and Jaehyun, and Jeonghun too, are all already dead. Maybe there isn’t anything worth saving. Maybe Jungwoo should stop searching for answers. He imagines the snow beneath his feet as ashes. Maybe it would be for the best. <em> Whose bones do I stand on? </em> Yet, he can’t find it in himself to give up so easily, though it hurts.</p><p> </p><p>It’s not just grief he’s feeling. Grief is a singular, throbbing pain that dims with time. Over the grief, a more insistent, screaming anguish burns in his mind. It’s something much, much worse. It is death by a thousand cuts; it is a wound that will never clot and heal.</p><p> </p><p>Hope.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hi hi!! sorry for the wait it was a busy day ^^ </p><p><a href="https://kjmsupremacist.tumblr.com/about">tumblr</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/_kjmsupremacist">twitter</a> | <a href="https://curiouscat.me/kjmsupremacist">curiouscat</a></p><p>I also do have a buy me a coffee, if you can spare a few bucks! you can find it on my about page on my tumblr (link above) no pressure obviously but i would rly appreciate it :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Doyoung arrives at Kun’s before Jungwoo does, and they pull together breakfast quietly. Kun’s parents are already gone for the day, so luckily, they’ll have the house to themselves for whatever new horror Jungwoo is bringing to the door.</p><p> </p><p>Kun wasn’t really sure how much to tell his parents, so he told them only a little bit. He’d sat them down that afternoon before his friends had arrived, briefly explained Jaehyun’s case, and told them to be careful.</p><p> </p><p>Doyoung hadn’t told his parents anything aside from the fact that Jaehyun is missing—he hadn’t even told them why. They are more affluent, powerful people; they are in less danger, and he didn’t want to give their friends away. Kun has a feeling Jungwoo did the same.</p><p> </p><p>Jungwoo arrives around 10.00, and they move downstairs. Kun starts the music, and Jungwoo unzips his bag.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to preface this,” he says, casting them a warning look, “by saying that it’s terrible.” He opens the bag and nods for them to come look. Kun inches forward; Doyoung gets there first and flinches, turning his head away. </p><p> </p><p>It’s what appears to be a human calf, somehow preserved. Kun glances between it and Jungwoo. “What—Is it real?”</p><p> </p><p>Jungwoo nods. “At least, I think so. A package was delivered yesterday, addressed to my father. I received it instead.” As Jungwoo recounts his day, Kun feels dread settle heavy like an anchor in his stomach. He exchanges looks with Doyoung as Jungwoo talks. “I know I shouldn’t have snapped at him or said so much. I know it puts us in danger. But I’m so angry, and I’m so—” Jungwoo shakes his head. “I’m so sick,” he says, all the vehemence from just a moment before disappearing, leaving his voice quiet and broken. “Anyway, I bring this to you because I need you to confirm that it’s real. I know you have that DNA sequencer. Could you take a sample, and take a look?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure,” Kun agrees shakily, going to boot up the scanner. “What are you gonna do if you’re right?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know,” Jungwoo mutters. “What <em> can </em> I do? I feel so helpless. I’m so stupid; I should’ve just played along so I could find out more. It’s too late now. There’s no way my father will trust me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, you’re stupid,” Doyoung replies, “but there’s no helping it now.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll get in touch with Chenle,” Kun says as he takes a sliver of the calf, trying not to gag. “Maybe his parents know something.”</p><p> </p><p>“Jeno, too,” Doyoung says. “We all need to act like everything is fine, and if anything suspicious crops up, we need to act like we don’t mind it.”</p><p> </p><p>Kun sets the scanner to do its work, and steps back. “It should have a full report within the next twenty minutes or so,” he tells them. “Let’s have some tea while we wait.”</p><p> </p><p>They are silent as they drink their tea. What is there to say? No expression of horror can encapsulate the gravity of their situation, nor the despair that comes with it. They all feel it; they all know it. Kun swirls the liquid in his teacup.</p><p> </p><p>“Can we check the news?” Doyoung asks quietly. “While we wait?”</p><p> </p><p>Kun nods, grabbing his mini holo projector off his bookshelf and setting it up on the table. He flips to a news channel, where the host is currently chatting with a scientist about the food shortage.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re working as hard as we can to purify more soil in preparation for crops,” the scientist is saying. “It’s a delicate process, and we want to be sure it’s done right, so we don’t waste any precious seeds.”</p><p> </p><p>“Didn’t Mark say last night that it wasn’t that hard?” Kun says, flicking his gaze to Doyoung.</p><p> </p><p>“He said maybe it’s harder on a larger scale, which is why it’s so slow going,” Doyoung corrects. “But still, why they wouldn’t want the knowledge to be more widespread…”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, why give power back to the people?” Kun asks, unable to keep all the venom out of his tone. Jungwoo scoffs appreciatively.</p><p> </p><p>The host is now thanking the scientist for his time, turning to the camera. “We’ll be right back, so stick around, because you’ll want to see what we have for you next. How is the family of the poor woman who was brutally murdered by her husband coping? Choi Eunji’s mother and siblings are here to speak with us today, right after this message from our sponsors.”</p><p> </p><p>Kun realizes they’ve all subconsciously leaned into the holo. “Good call on the news, Doyoung,” he murmurs.</p><p> </p><p>Doyoung is wearing an expression of disgust. “I hate how they announce it, like it’s the season finale of some TV show.” He glares at the brightly-colored ads flashing in front of him. “It’s <em> real life</em>, and the way they treat it like meaningless entertainment is fucking nauseating.”</p><p> </p><p>“It <em> is </em> meaningless entertainment to some people,” Jungwoo says. “To my father, certainly, and all the people in his circle of friends. And who do you think is in charge of these channels?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’d think they could stand to be a little less transparent,” Doyoung insists.</p><p> </p><p>They fall silent again as the show’s opening fanfare plays. “We’re joined now by Woo Soonbok and her children, the family the villain Choi Jeonghun admitted to ripping apart so heartlessly just weeks ago.” A watery-eyed middle aged woman sits on the couch with a young man and a younger girl. If Kun had to guess, Eunji’s brother is no older than twenty, and her sister is around fourteen. “Soonbok-ssi, how are you and your family doing?”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re still in shock.” Mrs. Woo’s voice is quiet and wavering. “Jeonghun was such a good husband to our Eunji. We could have never expected something like this would happen.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re trying to get her name changed back,” the brother pipes up. “From Choi to Woo. She shouldn’t have to rest with her murderer’s name.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s a lovely sentiment,” the newscaster says, looking at the camera with wide, sad eyes. “Our thoughts and prayers are with the Woo family as they go through this period of loss and grief. They had a small, private funeral for Eunji-ssi this last weekend.”</p><p> </p><p>“It wasn’t her.” The camera rushes to pan back to the family; Eunji’s little sister has spoken up. “The person we buried, it wasn’t her.” There’s inaudible, panicked whispering from somewhere on set; the camera zooms out uncertainly. “It looked just like her but I know it wasn’t her.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m so sorry.” Mrs. Woo’s voice is filled with fear, though she smiles awkwardly. “She was confused by the makeup, I think.”</p><p> </p><p>“I wasn’t,” the girl says. “That wasn’t my sister. I want—”</p><p> </p><p>The broadcast cuts abruptly, and the three of them stare in shocked silence at the empty holo.</p><p> </p><p>“Well,” Jungwoo says after a moment. “That was strange.”</p><p> </p><p>“That family is definitely in danger,” Doyoung says softly.</p><p> </p><p>“The news channel, too,” Jungwoo adds grimly. “I don't understand how they were allowed to conduct that interview in the first place. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was taken off air.”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you think she was talking about?” Kun asks. “Oh, I wonder…?”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Doyoung asks.</p><p> </p><p>“I just remembered,” Kun says. “Jaehyun was telling me about what he found, and I think he mentioned that a piece of Eunji’s scalp was missing at the scene.”</p><p> </p><p>“He told me that, too,” Jungwoo says. “He said there was blood everywhere from the stabbing, but that’s what freaked him out the most.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m just wondering about the autopsy,” Kun says. “I mean, autopsies are usually cross-checked. It’s very possible they just omitted certain results. But it’s kind of difficult to get the machine to spit out an incorrect cause of death.”</p><p> </p><p>“The department was doing the autopsy around the same time we were,” Doyoung says softly. “Either right before or right after.”</p><p> </p><p>“Which is why I was surprised that her body wasn’t locked away somewhere,” Kun adds. “Plus, I thought it would be stored in a room that required swipe access—which we got, from your mother’s former colleague. But it wasn’t, it was in some weird little back room.”</p><p> </p><p>Jungwoo picks at a scratch in the table. “You think the sister was right,” he says. “Or at least that they changed or replaced part of Eunji’s body—” he nods at his bag “—somehow, and that’s what the official report was based on. And that’s the body they buried.”</p><p> </p><p>“It sounds way too far-fetched to be true,” Kun says, shaking his head. “Now that you say it out loud.”</p><p> </p><p>The machine dings behind them just as Doyoung opens his mouth with what Kun assumes would be a rebuttal. “Hang on.” Kun stands, powering the holo down, and goes to read the output. He grimaces, and turns back to the others. “It’s organic. It wasn’t made in a lab. This…” He gestures to Jungwoo’s bag on the table. “This belonged to a girl. I wish we could find out who, but…”</p><p> </p><p>Jungwoo takes a deep breath. “I appreciate your help,” he says softly. “At least I know I’m not going crazy, as my father suggested.” He raises his eyes and gives Kun and Doyoung a rather wry smile. “Always a concern these days.”</p><p> </p><p>“What will you do?” Doyoung asks.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to get in touch with Kim Yerim, if I can,” he says. “I’ll be subtle, don’t worry. I just want to know what she knows.”</p><p> </p><p>“Won’t your father ask after you?” Kun asks, following Jungwoo with his eyes as he stands and moves to collect his things.</p><p> </p><p>Jungwoo shrugs. “He doesn’t really bother me, as long as I’m improving his bottom line,” he says. “And as far as anybody knows, that’s what I’ll be doing. Strengthening business connections, you know?”</p><p> </p><p>Kun can’t really find an issue with it. “Best of luck, then.”</p><p> </p><p>Jungwoo turns, one foot on the bottom step. “Thank you,” he says. “What will <em> you </em> do?”</p><p> </p><p>Kun looks at Doyoung. “See what we can find out about what happened to Eunji’s body,” he says. “I’ll see if Kunhang can get the official report for us, and take a look at the pictures.”</p><p> </p><p>“Stay safe,” Jungwoo says, and then he hurries up the stairs.</p><p> </p><p>Kun and Doyoung are silent for a moment, and then Doyoung sighs, and reaches out for Kun. Kun doesn’t hesitate, crossing to him and wrapping his arms around him, resting his cheek against his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“I feel like we’re living in a horror movie,” Kun says.</p><p> </p><p>“I’d rather be in a horror movie,” Doyoung replies. “If we were in a horror movie, there’d be a sure chance of a happy ending.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe we’re the extras,” Kun suggests, and Doyoung laughs.</p><p> </p><p>“No way,” he protests. “Let’s be the final girls instead.” Kun finds himself laughing, too.</p><p> </p><p>&gt;&gt;&gt;:&lt;&lt;&lt;</p><p> </p><p>Kun pays Kunhang a visit a couple of days later, after his last day at the morgue. Everyone is on holiday break, so processing will be slow, but Kunhang promises it shouldn’t be a problem, and says he’ll come visit over the weekend with the report in hand.</p><p> </p><p>Sure enough, Kunhang is at Kun’s door a few afternoons later, shivering from the cold.</p><p> </p><p>“They scheduled a snowfall on my street,” Kunhang gripes as he hangs up his scarf and coat and follows Kun downstairs. “Which is great for the kids that live near me, but <em> not </em>so great for me or my droids. I was going to work today, but I can’t with all the snow.”</p><p> </p><p>Kun smiles, comforted by the complaint of such a benign inconvenience. It means nothing earth-shattering has happened. “It’s for you to enjoy, too,” he points out. “I won’t keep you long. I just need to let you know what this means. Just in case.”</p><p> </p><p>Kunhang nods, sliding into a chair as Kun rummages through his cabinets for his own stashed autopsy records. He finally manages to pry them out from bedding the false back, and joins Kunhang at the table.</p><p> </p><p>Kunhang slides the police report to him, and Kun sifts through the pages until he finds a picture of Eunji’s head. He pulls out the picture he took and compares them, side by side. He’s not sure if he should feel excited or deeply horrified; he’s somewhere in the middle, which mostly just leaves him nauseated and anxious. “Okay, here.” He points to the patch on Eunji’s scalp. “This was the body that Jaehyun found. This was the body that I conducted the autopsy on. She’s missing a piece of her head! But here—” He points at the page from the report that Kunhang brought. “Nothing. Now, it wouldn’t be too odd—maybe they cleaned her up, right? But for one, you don’t really want to clean up injuries like that before an autopsy in case they have something to do with the victim’s death. The other thing is—did you watch the news the other day?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, the broadcast featuring Choi Eunji’s family that got cut off?” Kunhang asks. “I didn’t watch it, but I heard from my sisters. The younger daughter said the body they buried was a fake, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Or something to that effect, yes,” Kun says. “These autopsies, they’re observed. Now, I can believe that there’s a ring of powerful people trying to change history, profit off our ignorance. But I can’t imagine every single person involved in this autopsy was on board. So they had to find a way to trick the machine into giving them a fake cause of death. That means they’d have to somehow replace her head or erase the damage in her brain.” He shakes his bangs out of his eyes. “Jungwoo stopped by the day of that broadcast. A package had been delivered to his workshop, and it was of real human limbs. I used that DNA sequencer to check for him, that it was real, not synthetic. </p><p> </p><p>“Maybe—maybe things like this are what they use them for. It opens all kinds of doors, in any case.. At first, I thought I was being insane, but maybe the body they did the autopsy on wasn’t Eunji’s. Or, hell, maybe the body <em> I </em>did the autopsy on wasn’t Eunji’s. Either way, they’re hiding something, and this proves it.” Kun taps the picture of Eunji’s perfectly intact hair. “May I keep this, or will your mother be looking for it?”</p><p> </p><p>Kunhang shakes his head. “She’s on our side,” he says quietly. “She knows Jaehyun didn’t do anything wrong, and my parents are close with Johnny’s. They’re outraged over Johnny’s dad going missing. I told her it might help us get Jaehyun back, and she didn’t ask any more questions.”</p><p> </p><p>“Perfect,” Kun says, gathering the papers. “I hope we can trust her,” he adds, though he feels cruel saying it.</p><p> </p><p>Kunhang just nods in understanding, though. “I think we can,” he says. “Which is good. We need all the help we can get.”</p><p> </p><p>Kun sees him off and then wanders back down to his basement, finding a separate place to hide the new report. There’s a lot he needs to do; there are a lot of people he needs to see. But right now, he’s exhausted. He feels like he’s been going around in circles for weeks, to absolutely no avail. Two questions have been swimming around his head, drowning out all other thoughts, keeping him up at night.</p><p> </p><p>The first is, <em> is Jaehyun still alive, and if he is, where is he? </em>Kun doesn’t even know where to start with that. It’s not a small city, but there are a finite number of places he could be. Still, the task of finding him seems nearly impossible. And as much as he wishes to dedicate his time to answering this question, the second one eats at him, encroaching on his every waking moment and sparking a fear fierce and paralyzing like a straitjacket.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Which one of us is next? </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank u for reading! </p><p><a href="https://kjmsupremacist.tumblr.com/about">tumblr</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/_kjmsupremacist">twitter</a> | <a href="https://curiouscat.me/kjmsupremacist">curiouscat</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaehyun isn’t sure how long he’s out. The last thing he can recall is sitting on his couch at home, and then he’s blinking against harsh, artificial light. He tries to turn to look around, but finds himself restrained shoulders down, strapped into a chair in a small, featureless room.</p><p> </p><p>Panic flares in his chest, and he’s breathing like he’s just run around the whole city. He closes his eyes, shaking himself a little, and forces his breathing to slow. <em> If they wanted to kill you, they would’ve done it already</em>, he reasons with himself.</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun hears the click of a door handle, and snaps his eyes open. A masked officer is closing the door behind him. Jaehyun gives him a wary look as he approaches. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m not here to hurt you,” the officer says, adding, “necessarily.”</p><p> </p><p>“Makes me feel like you’re gonna hurt me,” Jaehyun replies.</p><p> </p><p>“Up to you.” The officer taps his wristband, and a video pops up. The holo shows Jaehyun walking home the day he handed in his badge. “You quit the force this day. Why?”</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun almost laughs at the absurdity of the question. “I realized being a police officer was no longer the right path for me,” he replies, keeping his tone even and delicate.</p><p> </p><p>“And why is that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Does it matter?” Jaehyun asks, deciding to feign ignorance. “Why am I here?”</p><p> </p><p>“I think we both know why you’re here.” The officer taps the wristband again, and the holo disappears. “You visited a tattoo shop shortly after your last day. What were you doing there?”</p><p> </p><p>“I was thinking about getting a tattoo,” Jaehyun says. </p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t even see the taser before he feels it, stuck against his side. He’s lucky police training includes getting used to tasing, but he still convulses a little in his restraints, squeezing his eyes shut and gasping in shock.</p><p> </p><p>“What were you doing at the tattoo shop?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m serious,” Jaehyun gasps. “I was asking about a tattoo, and then changed my mind.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah? What kind of tattoo?” the officer asks.</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun scrambles for an answer. “A flower,” he says quickly. The taser comes again, on his other side, but at least this time Jaehyun is ready for it. He grits his teeth and tries to keep his breath. “My friend has one,” he gasps out when he can. “What, you think a flower’s not my style?”</p><p> </p><p>The officer doesn’t answer. “You kept to yourself after you quit, even though normally you’re quite social. Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“Didn’t want any of my friends involved.” Jaehyun shrugs. “I didn’t think it’d help, to tell them what was going on.”</p><p> </p><p>“And what did you think was going on?” There’s a note of humor in the officer’s voice—either he doesn’t know, and thinks Jaehyun is a crazed conspiracy theorist, or he <em> does </em> know, and thinks it’s funny to watch Jaehyun chase his own tail.</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun just gives him a look. “You and I both know it wasn’t Jeonghun who killed Eunji,” he says.</p><p> </p><p>“Do we?” He leans closer. “Then who did?”</p><p> </p><p>“How should I know?” Jaehyun asks. “One of your colleagues, probably.”</p><p> </p><p>He’s slapped this time—backhanded, the man’s knuckles striking his cheekbone with such force that Jaehyun’s eyes water. “Taser wasn’t personal enough?” he asks, a little too derisively. </p><p> </p><p>“Why would the police, the government, kill an innocent person in her home?” the man asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Good question,” Jaehyun says. “Kind of sounds like taking an innocent man from his home and detaining him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe she wasn’t innocent, then.” </p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun gives him a sharp look. “Are <em> you</em>?” The officer ignores him; he’s busy queuing something up on his wristband. “You’re <em> kidnapping </em> people—people like me, people like Seo Hyunki, people like Choi Jeonghun, who is <em> not </em> a murderer—just because we have the eyes to see this as it is.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shut up,” the officer says tightly. “You’re wasting my time.”</p><p> </p><p>“I think this is a perfectly good use of time,” Jaehyun argues. “You never sent Jeonghun to a rehabilitation center, did you? So where is he? Where’s Seo Hyunki? And what about the human trafficking I’ve been hearing about—or can I even call it that? Is it trafficking if they’re already dead, and in pieces? Does that—”</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t get to finish his sentence. The officer raises his arm and swings, and his fist connects with Jaehyun’s jaw with a sickening crack. <em> I don’t think it’s broken, </em> Jaehyun thinks dizzily, slowly trying to pick his head back up from where it’s hanging against his shoulder. <em> Maybe dislocated</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“What would you know about that?” the officer hissed. “Unless you know something about this night as well?” A holo is shoved in Jaehyun’s face. It’s security cam footage of the holding cells from the night of the break in. The image goes dark. A few moments later, the cameras are back on, and officers are picking themselves up off the floor. “When we first asked him what happened that night, Choi said he didn’t know. He said he’d been knocked out, too.” He taps the holo away, standing up. “But after we asked a couple more times, he admitted that he had a masked visitor who asked about what happened. He had no idea who his visitor was, unfortunately.” The officer tilts his head. “Do you think you could enlighten me?”</p><p> </p><p>“How could I?” Jaehyun asks. “I didn’t hear about it until the next day at work.” He’s promptly tased. “What, are you asking if it was me? How would I have been able to?” Tased again. <em> Same spot. That’s not fair. </em> Jaehyun can feel sweat beading on his hairline, even though this facility is quite cold. “It wasn’t me,” he repeats.</p><p> </p><p>“He told us what he told you,” the officer says. “That’s the only way you could know about it.”</p><p> </p><p>“So it is true? Where are you getting the body parts? Am I going to be next?” Jaehyun’s kind of hoping that he can distract him.</p><p> </p><p>It doesn’t work. “You couldn’t have done it on your own, though. So who helped you?”</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun sets his jaw. “Nobody,” he grits out. The officer presses the taser into his side again, and keeps it on for a very long time, until Jaehyun is writhing.</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s try again. Who helped you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nobody,” Jaehyun repeats insistently.</p><p> </p><p>The officer tases him again. “So you’re telling me you knocked out the sector lock overrides, the cameras, and at least two dozen guards on your own?”</p><p> </p><p>“I wasn’t there, remember?”</p><p> </p><p>The officer sighs, throwing the taser aside, and punches him again, on the same side. Pain sings through Jaehyun’s body, a shrill note of pure agony. “We’re both too smart to play pretend, I think,” the officer says. “Who helped you?”</p><p> </p><p>“No one.” He gets a punch to the throat this time; he gasps and coughs, tasting blood on his tongue. “I stole a bot.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, so you’re a thief as well? Somehow, I find that a little difficult to believe.”</p><p> </p><p>“What, you can believe I’d break into a government building, harm fellow officers, and compromise security, but not that I’d steal a fucking bot?” He gets a couple more punches for that. <em> Maybe I should be watching my attitude, </em> he thinks, <em> but it’s a little hard. </em>One of his eyes is swelling; he can barely open it. His jaw pulses where he's becoming more and more certain it’s broken.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, let’s say you stole a bot. What did you do with it after?”</p><p> </p><p>“Trashed it, I’m not stupid.” </p><p> </p><p>“Uh-huh. Where’d you get it?”</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun hesitates for just a moment too long, and the officer hits him again. Jaehyun’s skull hits the back of the chair he’s strapped to. The combination of the collisions makes Jaehyun’s head swim. He feels nauseous, and he swallows roughly.</p><p> </p><p>They’re quiet for a minute. “You know,” the officer says finally, in almost a conversational tone. “I looked at your file. You were an exemplary officer. Always on time, never took sick days. Fast worker, knew how to handle people. A couple more years, and you probably would’ve been moved to the main department. You could’ve been really great.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m glad I woke up before I got in too deep, then,” Jaehyun snaps. “What would that make me, someone like you? In a few years, would I be standing in your place? Would I be the one killing random civilians? I can’t imagine anything worse.”</p><p> </p><p>The officer slams him into the chair. “You won’t have to imagine,” he says, his tone taking on a sort of odd quality that sends unease shivering down Jaehyun’s spine. “So you’re right,” the officer continues. “Choi <em> didn’t </em>kill his wife, at least not directly. But that doesn’t mean he’s innocent. If he’d just kept it to himself, none of this would’ve happened. Can’t you see that? We wouldn’t have had to step in with his wife. You wouldn’t even be here. This is why we’re doing this, you know? Because as soon as someone like Choi steps out of line, all the dominos start falling. It’s our job to minimize that kind of destruction. Once, it was yours, too. And if it takes putting half the city behind bars to keep the peace, then that’s what it takes. You think we got through the famine, the war, with wisdom? No, it was a dedication to compliance.”</p><p> </p><p>Terror slowly dawns as the pain dulls to a low throb. “Why are you telling me this?” Jaehyun asks hoarsely.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s nothing you didn’t already know, is it?” the officer asks.</p><p> </p><p>“But you could just deny it,” Jaehyun says. “Unless—”</p><p> </p><p>“Unless it doesn’t matter,” the officer finishes for him, sounding almost pleased. “Did you really think you’d be leaving? Of course not. You’re too dangerous.”</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun spits blood at him, and he’s happy to see it splatters across the front of his uniform. The officer hits him again, right under his eye.</p><p> </p><p>“You can’t kill everyone who doesn’t agree with you,” Jaehyun gasps.</p><p> </p><p>“We can try.” The officer fiddles with something on his belt, and Jaehyun sees a flash of metal. Pliers. “Let’s really get started. Who did you work with on the break-in?”</p><p> </p><p>“No one,” Jaehyun says quietly, wincing as the officer presses his hand flat against the arm of the chair and lines the pliers up with one of his nails. He begins to pull, and Jaehyun tries not to scream.</p><p> </p><p>Just as it’s getting unbearable, a voice comes over the speakers. “Stop.” It’s a woman, and Jaehyun swears the voice is familiar. He can’t place it, though. “He’s strong, we’ll use him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, ma’am.” The officer steps away and Jaehyun lets out a shaky breath. “Maybe you’ll get some of the answers you were looking for after all,” he adds. More officers come in, also masked, and undo Jaehyun’s restraints. He wishes he had the strength to try and fight, but his head is so fucking heavy. He lets them drag him out the room and down the hall. </p><p> </p><p>They stop short in front of a woman, and Jaehyun sluggishly raises his head to look at her face.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Deputy 24 says. “It’s me.” She turns to the guards who are holding him up. “Let’s put him in the infirmary for a couple of days. I don’t think his new coworkers will be very welcoming. We don’t need him dying before he can even do any work for us.”</p><p> </p><p>“You <em> bitch</em>,” Jaehyun forces out hoarsely. “What’re you gonna say when my father starts asking questions?”</p><p> </p><p>“The same sort of thing I did when you were asking about the Chois,” she replies, flicking her hand for the guards to take him away. “Let’s hope he isn’t a stupid as his son, hm?” she calls after him.</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun can’t form a reply, a dark weariness taking over. He goes limp in the guards’ hands. He hopes he dies before their doctors can even try to save him.</p><p> </p><p>&gt;&gt;&gt;:&lt;&lt;&lt;</p><p> </p><p>He’s released from the infirmary a few days later. At least, he assumes it’s a few days. He counts five meals of that Jell-O shit (which he <em> knew </em> wasn’t as expensive as the companies scamming rich people were making it out to be) before they change his bandages, click some kind of device around his ankle, and send him on his way, but that doesn’t include the time he was asleep. Whatever tech they have here is insane—he’s told his jaw was dislocated, but they’d fixed him up before he even awoke.</p><p> </p><p>Two guards escort him down the hall. He doesn’t try to fight; he has a feeling the other prisoners are going to love to have an ex-cop to beat the shit out of, so he might as well conserve his strength. He looks around surreptitiously, trying to get his bearings, but it’s of no use. All the halls look the same—grey walls, black floors, shitty white lights. </p><p> </p><p>They go down a flight of stairs, and reach a big gate, which he’s shoved through. It’s locked behind him. One of the guards points him to a smaller door. He sighs, and pushes it open.</p><p> </p><p>Guards patrol the perimeter. When he hesitates, one of them pushes him toward the center. It’s a dusty, almost unfinished room. They’re definitely underground. It’s huge and circular; the ceiling is a couple of stories up. There’s a smaller door to his right, heavily guarded, and another big gate directly across the circle, also heavily guarded. There are no beds, just bedrolls, and a half-obscured room to his left that he assumes are the bathrooms. </p><p> </p><p>But what strikes him is the sheer number of people milling around. Some sit, scraping at the bottoms of bowls. Others are playing games in the dust. Everything is covered in a layer of grime. He squints, and realizes everyone is wearing a device around their ankles identical to his.</p><p> </p><p>He walks forward, not really sure where to go or what to do, or what any of them are doing there. If they’re not allowed out, why not just kill them all? Isn’t it more expensive to keep a bunch of people in a secret prison, especially when food is already so short?</p><p> </p><p>“You!” He hears a shout from his right, and turns wearily to find its source. “You’re a fuckin’ cop, aren’t you? How’d you get thrown in here? Refuse to kill someone for them?”</p><p> </p><p>It’s a young man that Jaehyun doesn’t recognize. He’s sure he probably had a run-in with him at some point, but he can’t remember it. “I quit,” he replies, and the man just laughs.</p><p> </p><p>“Your dad is Lieutenant 73, isn’t he?” Without waiting for an answer, he calls over his shoulder. “Hey! This guy’s father got my brother killed! They’re both cops!” People pop their heads up, some setting down whatever they were doing. “What? Not gonna defend him?” he asks Jaehyun.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry about your brother,” Jaehyun says quietly. “I’m sorry about you, too.” </p><p> </p><p>Someone grabs one of his arms; Jaehyun flails, and suddenly he’s surrounded by a mob. The guards haven’t moved. Someone lands a punch on his nose, and though shouts fill the air, he can hear a voice above the rest.</p><p> </p><p>“Enough! Let him go.” </p><p> </p><p>Surprisingly, the crowd disperses, making way for the speaker. Jaehyun wipes some blood off his lip and looks up, eyes widening in shock. “Hyunki-ssi,” he mumbles as Johnny’s dad slings one of his arms over his shoulder and leads him away from the group. “You’re alive.”</p><p> </p><p>“How’s Johnny and his mom?” Johnny’s dad asks. He sits Jaehyun down on a cinderblock and looks him over. </p><p> </p><p>“They’re fine,” Jaehyun replies, staring at Hyunki as he does his little examination. “Both still working. Doing okay money-wise, last I checked. Very worried about you, though.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure,” Hyunki murmurs, brow furrowed. He turns Jaehyun's head side to side. </p><p> </p><p>“What’s the verdict, doc?” Jaehyun asks, earning a tiny smile. “Is my nose broken?”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Johnny’s dad says, patting him on the shoulder. “It’ll be sore, but you should be fine.”</p><p> </p><p>“Figured you might want some water.” This is a new voice, but familiar, too. Jaehyun snaps his gaze to the figure approaching from behind Hyunki.</p><p> </p><p>“Choi Jeonghun?” he says in disbelief.</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghun stiffens. “Hyunki,” he says to Johnny’s dad. “This is the officer that responded to my call about—about Eunji.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know him,” Hyunki replies gently, taking the water and pouring some out onto a rag to clean Jaehyun’s face. “He’s friends with my son.”</p><p> </p><p>“How’d you end up here?” Jeonghun asks, kind of sourly.</p><p> </p><p>“That night at your holding cell,” Jaehyun says. “It was me. They found out somehow, I think.”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghun’s gaze softens. “Oh,” he says quietly. “I—I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay,” Jaehyun replies wryly. “Some of my friends know a bit of what happened, and they’re smart. I may not be a lot of use to you now, but I think they’ll be able to piece it together without getting into too much trouble themselves.” Johnny’s dad hands him the remainder of the water to drink, stepping back. “So what’s going on here?”</p><p> </p><p>Hyunki’s eyes darken. “They have us working in the mines in the mountain.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Jaehyun exclaims, nearly choking on the water. “I thought bots did that work, because of the shitty air quality and stuff.”</p><p> </p><p>Hyunki shrugs. “The bots are expensive to replace,” he explains. “With the preexisting food shortage, it’s actually probably cheaper for them to just use people until they die. It’s free labor, and eventually it means less mouths to feed. Besides, that way they can do something with us, instead of just killing us.” He sighs, and Jaehyun realizes for the first time since seeing him how tired he looks, how old. </p><p> </p><p>“What did you do,” Jaehyun asks, “to get thrown in here with the rest of us?”</p><p> </p><p>“You remember the company I worked for?” Hyunki asks. “Body Systems. I always knew they had some kind of deal with the Sundews—you know, the gang Yuta’s family is affiliated with. But I found out they also had some kind of relationship with this other organization. Come to find out, it’s the same organization that Jeonghun here got mixed up with.”</p><p> </p><p>“That setting sun tattoo,” Jaehyun recalls. “You saw them?”</p><p> </p><p>Hyunki nods. “I just… wrong place, wrong time, and then I got curious,” he explains. “I told my wife that something might happen, but I wouldn’t tell her anything else. I had no idea that the government—or, at least pieces of the government—was involved until I got here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well,” Jaehyun says heavily, standing and scanning the room. “This isn’t ideal.”</p><p> </p><p>“Be honest,” Jeonghun says, coming closer. “Do you think your friends will be able to figure something out? Should we have hope?”</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun nods. “I trust them,” he replies. “And even if they’re slow to figure it out, we’ll find a way to get out of here.” He looks Jeonghun in the eyes. “I told you I wanted to get to the bottom of this. I still mean that.”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghun nods firmly. “Then I’ll help however I can.”</p><p> </p><p>“I will too,” Hyunki agrees. “I’m sure almost everybody here would agree, once we have something to work off of.”</p><p> </p><p>“Better get started then.” Jaehyun scans the room. All things considered, it’s much better off than he thought he’d be. He’s in good company, and though Johnny’s dad doesn’t have much more power than he does, it’s still comforting to have an older presence around. Though he’s not reassured now that his worst fears are confirmed, he takes comfort in knowing that at least Jungwoo, Kun, and Doyoung will know enough to put together the rest and figure out how to fix all of this before it’s too late.</p><p> </p><p>That night, lying awake while others snore softly around him, Jaehyun can’t stop thinking about his friends. They must know he’s missing by now. They must be panicking, especially after his strange behavior these last few weeks. He worries most for Johnny, who’s already lost someone close so recently; for Jaemin, who won’t have a place to crash; for Jisung, who’s so young but has already lost so much; and for Jungwoo, Doyoung, and Kun, and the dark secrets they harbor for his sake. He can only hope they aren’t the ones sent stumbling through that door in the days to come. </p><p> </p><p>He wishes he could get a message to them, to let them know he’s alive, that he’s found Johnny’s father, that they need to be careful. Instead, he can only fret. He shifts around on his thin bedroll, which does nothing to soften the sharp points of stones beneath him, nor block out the pervasive cold of the earthy floor. He barely gets any sleep before morning comes.</p><p> </p><p>&gt;&gt;&gt;:&lt;&lt;&lt;</p><p> </p><p>Work in the mines is grueling, to say the least. It’s mostly iron that they’re excavating, but recently they discovered a lead deposit. They’re given masks to filter out the particles of lead, but Jaehyun doubts their effectiveness. Neither he nor Jeonghun were chosen to split from the group, but Johnny’s dad is among the lead miners. So far, it hasn’t seemed to take a toll on his health, but it’s only been a week. Jaehyun isn’t sure how long it will last.</p><p> </p><p>“Can’t we do anything for him?” Jaehyun asks Jeonghun.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Jeonghun says quietly. “Anytime any of us steps out of line, they do something to a loved one out in the city. One of Hyunki’s friends ended up receiving his child’s corpse.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck.” Jaehyun gives him a horrified look. “How old?”</p><p> </p><p>“She was fifteen, the kid,” Jeonghun says. “The friend died shortly before I arrived. Mining accident. I don’t know how accidental it really was, though.”</p><p> </p><p>After the first night, no more fights broke out. Hyunki and Jeonghun introduced Jaehyun to their circle of friends, and Jaehyun explained some of what had been going on in the city. They all offer their help—some know how to code, others are good with machines, others still have medical training. It brings Jaehyun a great deal of hope.</p><p> </p><p>They try not to look too friendly, because they know the guards are just looking for a reason to confine them, or drag their families into the mess. And it’s also true that there isn’t a whole lot of unity. Jaehyun’s lucky he knows Hyunki, because at least people respect him a little, even if they’re the type to snitch for brownie points. Still, Jaehyun often finds himself looking over his shoulder even when he’s doing something as benign as bringing Jeonghun some food.</p><p> </p><p>He manages to make friends, too. There’s a girl who’s great with electrical engineering, named Michiko, who he gets close to. She actually knew some of Jaehyun’s friends when they were still in school, though they weren’t close. She’s Mark’s age, and she ends up tagging along with Jaehyun and Jeonghun a lot during the day.</p><p> </p><p>It’s the end of Jaehyun’s first week now, and he, Jeonghun, and Michiko are on their way back to their base, laughing and chatting. Hyunki is already waiting for them at the entrance, smiling patiently as they drop their tools.</p><p> </p><p>“Everything go okay?” he asks as they approach.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Jaehyun replies, “we’re all fine.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s a normal day, as far as things go. They’ll go back for a meal, and talk and play games until the guards shut the lights off. Jaehyun is building a new little family here, and no one can take that from him.</p><p> </p><p>They’re pulled aside as they near the exit into the building by a guard, who ushers them without explanation down a side hallway. Deputy 24 is waiting on the other side of the door, and she gestures for them to follow her as she begins walking, her steps sharp and deliberate.</p><p> </p><p>“Where are we going?” Michiko asks when the silence stretches on far too long for it to be comfortable.</p><p> </p><p>“We need you to see something,” Deputy 24 says. “In case you forget why it is you’re here.”</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun feels an unpleasant lurch in his stomach, but he has no choice but to keep walking. Deputy 24 scans them into a room he doesn’t recognize, and as they step in, the lights come on.</p><p> </p><p>The walls are lined by glass cells. Some of the people in them appear to be sleeping—or maybe dead. Others are curled in the corner. Some press themselves to the glass, banging soundlessly against it. Jeonghun’s hand finds Jaehyun’s forearm, fingers digging into his skin painfully. Jaehyun barely feels it.</p><p> </p><p>“This way,” Deputy 24 says calmly, like there’s nothing astounding about the sight around them as it is. </p><p> </p><p>She leads them partway down the room, and stops in front of a particular cell. Though Jaehyun never knew her when she was alive, he recognizes Eunji immediately, having stared at her face as he tried to solve the case. She’s sitting in the center of the cell, head down and eyes closed. She doesn’t look dead; there's a healthy pallor to her skin, and Jaehyun thinks he can even detect the slight rise and fall of her chest as she breathes. <em>But she’s supposed to be buried by now. </em><em>Then what…? </em></p><p> </p><p>“Eunji-yah.” Jeonghun walks up to the cell and raps on the window. She doesn’t stir. “Eunji!” </p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun whips his head between Eunji and Deputy 24. “What is this?” he asks.</p><p> </p><p>“A reminder,” Deputy 24 replies. “It’s too late for you. But the other people in your lives, you can still protect them. That’s enough,” she adds sharply to Jeonghun, who’s still trying in vain to get Eunji’s attention. “Get them out.”</p><p> </p><p>Guards appear in both doorways and pull them out, back to the base. Jaehyun doesn’t even struggle, too numbed by shock. He stares at Deputy 24 as they’re dragged away, Jeonghun’s screaming ringing in his ears.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Johnny got home from Jungwoo’s the evening that they’d discovered Jaehyun was missing, he’d waited at the kitchen counter until his mother came in the front door. He must’ve looked a bit frightening, because she jumped a little when she came around the corner. He’d just patted the seat next to him, grabbing a signal jammer that Ten had given him that afternoon and setting it up on the countertop.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s going on?” she’d asked quietly, reaching up to touch his cheek. “Johnny.”</p><p> </p><p>“You remember Jaehyun,” he said softly. “Cop, wasn’t allowed to work on Dad’s case?” His mother nodded. “He’s gone missing,” he said, pressing his lips together when his mother gasped. “Jisung went to his apartment this morning, and he was just… gone. I’m telling you this because I think—I think we’re being watched.”</p><p> </p><p>Surprisingly, his mother’s face had cleared a little. “I know,” she murmured. Johnny blinked at her. “There’s a man that watches our window,” she continued. “He’s been there since your father vanished. It’s how I knew—that something wasn’t right here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why do we still go to the police then?” Johnny asked.</p><p> </p><p>“We have to look like we don’t suspect a thing.” She took Johnny’s hands in her own. “You mustn’t do anything dangerous,” she said. “I’m not saying it’s right, but it won’t help anybody if you’re the next to go.” Her gaze grew serious. “I don’t know what I would do,” she added, “if I lost you, too.”</p><p> </p><p>It had been altogether a little too much for Johnny, if he’s being honest. He’d wrapped her in a hug and told her he wasn’t going anywhere, though they both knew it was a promise he didn’t have a whole lot of control over keeping. </p><p> </p><p>It’s been nearly a week now since Jaehyun’s disappearance. Small developments have circulated through their friend group as they come up, but that’s about all. It’s strange to walk around everyday like nothing is going wrong, though Johnny knows it’s necessary. He still streams multiple times a week, still keeps his social media up and running without any changes. He still visits his friends when he has the time, still makes trips to the police station to ask about his father, a blank, worried expression pinned to his face. <em> I’m harmless</em>, he thinks as he waits in the lobby, shifting from foot to foot, as if this will protect him. <em> Please don’t kill me. </em></p><p> </p><p>He’s on his way home from the store when he passes a little open patch between trailers and happens to spot what appears to be Ten attending an outdoor self-defense lesson for children. He’s giggling along with the kids as their instructor, a tall young woman with pink hair, demonstrates a punch. Johnny finds himself drawing closer, and he sees people he assumes to be parents hovering around the edges of the clearing, watching and chatting.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, guys!” The instructor picks up a worn pillow. “You’re all gonna try it on this, and then we’ll wrap up for today, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Little groans of protest come up; Johnny gathers this is not due to her request that they practice, but that the lesson is coming to an end. </p><p> </p><p>“Shufanggg,” Ten whines with them, grinning at a couple of the kids when he does it.</p><p> </p><p>Johnny smiles a little to himself as he watches them line up. It’s one of the most soothingly normal things he’s seen in quite some time, so he stays, lulled by the happy chatter and laughter from the kids.</p><p> </p><p>“Haven’t seen you here before.” A young mom sidles up next to Johnny with a smile. “Which one’s yours?”</p><p> </p><p>Johnny laughs, rolling his eyes. “Uh, the adult,” he says. “He’s one of my best friends.”</p><p> </p><p>The mom gives an understanding chuckle. “I was gonna say, you look a little young,” she says. “Do you know Shufang, too?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, actually,” Johnny replies, assuming this is the instructor.</p><p> </p><p>“She’s great,” the woman gushes warmly. “She does this for free, you know. It’s pay-what-you-can.”</p><p> </p><p>Johnny blinks. “Oh!” He tilts his head, watching as Shufang offers high-five after high-five. “That’s really cool.”</p><p> </p><p>They talk while they wait for the lesson to end, and eventually the woman’s daughter runs up to her and they say goodbye. As the rest of the families thank Shufang, some transferring units to her, others pressing gifts into her hands, Johnny saunters over to Ten, nudging him with his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you doing?” he asks.</p><p> </p><p>Ten just grins. “I ran into Shufang a couple days ago on my way back from my mom’s,” he says. “And I asked if I could join a lesson. She said sure.”</p><p> </p><p>“You looked stupid,” Johnny informs him, and Ten just rolls his eyes. “But it was… kinda sweet.”</p><p> </p><p>“Right?” Ten’s expression becomes a little more serious. “We need that now. Sweetness.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ten.” Johnny turns, and sees Shufang walking up to them, rearranging her gifts in her bag. “You know all these kids could kick your ass, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s why I’m here,” Ten replies. “So I can learn.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re here to be disruptive,” she says, but she’s smiling. She turns her attention to Johnny. “You must be Johnny.”</p><p> </p><p>“I—yeah, I am.” Johnny gives her a surprised look.</p><p> </p><p>“We’ve talked a bit,” Ten explains. “I mentioned my tall best friend.”</p><p> </p><p>Shufang just smiles. “Do you guys have a moment? Would you like to come by for some tea?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ooh, yes please,” Ten answers for the both of them, grabbing Johnny’s arm. “C’mon,” he says quietly as they follow Shufang. “She knows everybody. She might even be able to help us.”</p><p> </p><p>Shufang leads them to a trailer, and she gestures them to her couch while she goes to put some things away and heat up water. “I live alone,” she explains as she works. “So it’s nice to have company.” She pops her head up so that they can see her face over the half-wall that separates her living-room space and her kitchen. “Where do you live, Johnny?”</p><p> </p><p>“Uh, with my parents, in the matchboxes,” he replies.</p><p> </p><p>Shufang nods. “Your mom has a cooking channel, right?” she asks, not waiting for confirmation before continuing, “I’m too poor to watch her streams, but I do watch her free uploads!”</p><p> </p><p>“Shufang works at that ramen place Yuta and Sicheng like,” Ten says.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m a line cook,” Shufang elaborates. “So I like your mom’s channel a lot.” She brings a tray of tea and cups to them and sets it down on her coffee table before taking the open spot on the couch next to Ten. “What does your dad do?”</p><p> </p><p>Johnny flinches a little. “He’s, um,” he says. “He’s missing right now.”</p><p> </p><p>Shufang blinks. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she says softly, and then reaches back and flicks a switch on her wall. Johnny can hear what sounds like faint TV static come on. “Just a failsafe,” she explains. “Seems it’s not safe to talk about anything these days. Not that you have to talk about it. It’s private, of course.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” Johnny swirls his tea around in his mug. It’s fragrant and rich, which is surprising. He doesn’t dare ask where she got it. “So, your self-defense lessons. That’s awesome of you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, thank you,” Shufang says. “I enjoy it, though. It’s not a big deal.”</p><p> </p><p>“If I was meant to be a dancer,” Ten pipes up, “Shufang was meant to be some kind of humanitarian.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s overly generous,” Shufang says. “It’s just that I wish I could be.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I think regardless, the world could use a little bit of that attitude,” Johnny says.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you do, Johnny?” Shufang asks, and Johnny tries not to fidget.</p><p> </p><p>“I mostly do, like, odd jobs and stuff,” he says. “Kinda like Ten.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, kinda,” Ten says, unhelpfully.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, if you ever want to drop in on a lesson, you’re welcome to,” Shufang offers. “Though you seem like you don’t need it as much as Ten does.”</p><p> </p><p>“I think one twenty-something-year-old man is enough for you to handle,” Johnny points out.</p><p> </p><p>“I told her she should try to scam the rich people into paying top dollar to teach their kids,” Ten says. </p><p> </p><p>“I told him I do what I do not for spite of the rich, but for love of the poor,” Shufang shoots back. “I’m serious, though, I have another lesson in a couple of days.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t have anything to give you,” Johnny replies, unsure what to do with her friendliness.</p><p> </p><p>“Neither does Ten,” Shufang says, kicking Ten’s foot lightly. “What’s the old phrasing? Mutual aid? It’s not that I expect you to pay me back. It’s just that if we base our community on giving, it leads to a healthier community—and less reliance on people who don’t care about us, you know?”</p><p> </p><p>On his way home that night, Johnny thinks about what Shufang said. It gives him—what, hope, maybe? Not just the sentiment, but, <em>like</em> <em>the fact that there are other people outside my friend group that are trying to work something out, who try to make joy for themselves and others outside of the norm… I’m not sure where I’m going with this. </em> He just knows it makes him feel like things might be okay.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m having Mrs. Park over the day after tomorrow,” his mom tells him as soon as he’s in the front door. “You’re not streaming, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not,” Johnny confirms. “Any particular occasion?” </p><p> </p><p>Mrs. Park is one of his mother’s oldest friends. She has three daughters; the eldest is around Johnny’s age. They haven’t seen much of each other in the past few years just because they’ve all been quite busy.</p><p> </p><p>“She’ll be in the neighborhood, and she wanted to come see how we’re doing,” his mother replies. “It would be nice if you’d stick around for the visit.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Johnny agrees. <em> It’s the least I can do</em>, he thinks.</p><p> </p><p>&gt;&gt;&gt;:&lt;&lt;&lt;</p><p> </p><p>Johnny casually hides in the kitchen when his mom goes to answer the door. It’s not that he’s shy, it’s just that he’s gotten a bit hesitant with people these days. But he hears warm voices, so he brings the tea out to the coffee table, smiling and nodding at Mrs. Park when he comes into her view.</p><p> </p><p>Behind her is a young woman who Johnny assumes to be her daughter, but Johnny nearly stops in his tracks, because he recognizes her face from Kun’s briefing. <em> Why am I stupid? </em> he thinks as he sets the tea down. <em> How many Park Sooyoungs can there be in this city? </em> He’d just never made the connection that his childhood acquaintance Sooyoung was the same Sooyoung who now works for UltraViolet. <em> In my defense</em>, he thinks as he turns to greet her, <em> last time I saw her was when we were still in school. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Johnny.” Sooyoung offers him a pretty smile. “It’s been a while.”</p><p> </p><p>“It has,” Johnny agrees, still a little shocked. “I’m sorry, I only got tea for your mother and mine. Do you—do you want something to drink?”</p><p> </p><p>“Water would be great,” Sooyoung says. “And no worries.”</p><p> </p><p>Johnny leads her over to the kitchen island. He fills up a glass and slides it to her. “What brings you guys here?” he asks, watching out of the corner of his eye as his mother and Sooyoung’s mother sit down.</p><p> </p><p>Sooyoung slides into one of the chairs at the island. “My youngest sister, she used to go to these self-defense lessons when she was younger, and she wanted to go back and say hi to the instructor.” She tilts her head. “I don’t know if you know her? Shufang?”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s crazy, actually,” Johnny says, taking the seat beside her. “I met her just a couple of days ago.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, my sisters like her a lot,” Sooyoung says fondly. “She offered to teach me once if I wanted, but I told her I was too old. Although,” she adds. “I did notice a guy around our age in the crowd of kids today when I dropped Minji off.”</p><p> </p><p>“That would probably be my friend, Ten,” Johnny explains with an embarrassed laugh. “He’s… a bit unique, I guess.”</p><p> </p><p>“The kids seemed to like him,” Sooyoung says, clearly amused. </p><p> </p><p>“So, um,” Johnny says, trying and failing at a smooth transition. “I heard you work for UltraViolet now, right?”</p><p> </p><p>Sooyoung’s expression clouds a little, almost like she’s drawing a veil over her features. “Yeah,” she says, sounding a little distant. “I do.”</p><p> </p><p>“Some of my friends were at that product launch about a week ago,” Johnny says. “You might’ve seen them.”</p><p> </p><p>Sooyoung smiles faintly. “Oh, I was a little busy babysitting the younger Kim girls,” she replies. “Are you friends with that Lee Jeno, by chance?”</p><p> </p><p>“I am,” Johnny says, somewhat apprehensively.</p><p> </p><p>Sooyoung grins. “I’m a big fan of his dramas.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll let him know.” There’s a lull in their conversation. Johnny doesn’t really know what to do with himself. It’s odd, and a little disheartening, to be next to someone you grew up with who ended up far and away more successful than you did. He feels inadequate, and it makes his skin prickle a little.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry about your dad,” Sooyoung says finally, her voice gentler. “I hope you find out what happened to him soon.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks.” Johnny tries to search her face. <em> Does she know something? </em> But she seems sincere. “How’s your father?” he asks, just to be polite.</p><p> </p><p>“Good, good,” Sooyoung replies, and the small moment of connection is gone. “We’re all good.”</p><p> </p><p>Johnny ends up walking with Sooyoung and her mother back towards Shufang’s little clearing to pick up Sooyoung’s sister. Ten snatches Johnny aside immediately.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s Park Sooyoung,” he says, as if Johnny wasn’t just with her.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, I’m aware,” Johnny replies. They watch Sooyoung, who’s talking to Shufang. Shufang throws her head back, laughing at something Sooyoung has said. “Whatever, you know, the situation is, I don’t think she’s in on it,” he tells Ten. </p><p> </p><p>“No, I agree,” Ten says. “Shufang seems to like her, so I don’t think she can be horrible.”</p><p> </p><p>Sooyoung rests a hand on Shufang’s forearm, smiling up at her. “Sooyoung seems to like Shufang, too,” Johnny says.</p><p> </p><p>Ten squints at them. “I’m definitely going to make that happen,” he decides.</p><p> </p><p>“Ten, no, wait—” Johnny grabs his arm. “Last time you tried that, Yuta and Sicheng ended up together.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Ten shakes him off. “All I wanted was for Jaehyun…” He goes silent, and Johnny casts his eyes on the ground. The light, joyful feeling dissipates, and leaves Johnny with the cold, hollow dread that has become so familiar as he’s thrust back to reality. It’s jarring to realize he can go even minutes at a time with the pure insanity of his life sort of shoved into the back of his mind where it won’t bother him. How could he and Ten forget, even for a moment, how changed their world is? And yet, they <em> do</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you think we’ll ever see him again?” Ten asks, barely above a whisper.</p><p> </p><p>Johnny thinks about his father, about the man that watches their house, about the fear in his mother’s voice. He thinks about how quiet all these things have been; how everything has kind of just <em> happened</em>, one after another. He thinks about the way they haven’t heard a thing about the newscaster whose broadcast was cut short just a few days ago, and how they probably won’t ever again. <em> No</em>, he thinks. <em> I really don’t think we will see him. </em> “I don’t know,” he says instead.</p><p> </p><p>But Ten can hear the despondence in his voice. “Not unless we join him, you mean,” he mutters.</p><p> </p><p>Though Johnny shakes his head, he can’t help but agree.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ty for reading!</p><p><a href="https://kjmsupremacist.tumblr.com/about">tumblr</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/_kjmsupremacist">twitter</a> | <a href="https://curiouscat.me/kjmsupremacist">curiouscat</a></p>
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<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s a rare day when all four women have time off together, but today happens to be one of them. Sooyoung heads straight to Joohyun’s place after she’s eaten breakfast, looking forward to a day of talking shit, relaxing, and probably drinking.</p><p> </p><p>She keeps her expectations low, though. Ever since the launch, tensions have been a little high in their group. Yerim told Seulgi and Sooyoung what she and Joohyun had discussed at the party, and it had divided them a bit. They haven’t had the chance to really talk about it, so she has a feeling the immortality conversation will be happening today. The main issue is that Seulgi and Joohyun are of completely opposite opinions, and that usually spells trouble, because as much as they love to bicker, they hate to fight. The problem is, both of them are <em> very </em> opinionated, and <em> very </em>proud, so Sooyoung and Yerim usually have to step in before things get too out of hand.</p><p> </p><p>What’s worse, even Yerim seems to be inflamed about the issue. Ever since the launch party, she’s become serious. Gone is the sweet, unassuming little sister Sooyoung has always loved. In her place, a young woman has emerged; one who smiles without her eyes; one talks less and listens more, brooding. It’s not that Sooyoung never wanted Yerim to grow up. It’s just that it’s all happened so quickly, Sooyoung doesn’t know what to think.</p><p> </p><p>Sooyoung’s worries are well-founded. Joohyun answers the door to her apartment with a stormy expression. “Tell Seulgi she’s being dramatic,” she says instead of saying hi. “She won’t listen to me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is Yerim already here, too?” Sooyoung asks delicately, shutting the door behind her and untying her coat. A bot whirs up, extending a bionic arm. “Thank you,” she says, handing off her coat and shoes.</p><p> </p><p>“No, she said she’s on her way. C’mon,” Joohyun huffs, grabbing Sooyoung’s arm. “Seulgi’s saying I was too harsh with Yerim last week. Why she’s only bringing it up now is beyond me. She’s literally refused to talk to me, and now the first thing out of her mouth when she has the chance to stop by is to tell me I was wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>“To be fair,” Sooyoung says, letting Joohyun drag her around the corner to her living room, “you are usually a little harsher than you need to be.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m very sorry if I think Yerim was right to question Joohyun’s little crusade for immortality,” Seulgi pipes up from where she’s sitting, legs spread and arms crossed, on Joohyun’s couch. Joohyun gestures Sooyoung to an armchair and takes her usual seat beside Seulgi, though she faces away from her, which Sooyoung has to try very hard not to laugh at.</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t even say anything like that!” Joohyun argues. It’s clear they’ve already visited and revisited this point before Sooyoung’s arrival. “All I said was that girl was being rude for asking about the chairman’s motives!”</p><p> </p><p>“First of all, you were very rude,” Seulgi says. Sooyoung has to agree with that. Based on Yerim’s retelling, she was downright mean to a random intern asking a harmless question. “Second of all, it’s not like you <em> don’t </em> believe it would be good if the chairman could extend life indefinitely.”</p><p> </p><p>“And? I think it <em> would </em> be good! Can you imagine? A world without death!” Joohyun’s eyes are alight with passion. “Death is the thing we are all most innately afraid of. If we can do away with it completely, think about all the things we could accomplish! We could change out our stomachs so that we didn’t need food. We could modify our lungs so that the toxins outside the city wouldn’t harm us. And then we wouldn’t be trapped in here anymore! We could start over, venture out and spread that knowledge. We could rebuild the world.”</p><p> </p><p>Sooyoung nods along. She’s not sure how possible it would be, but the idea that she could just keep replacing body parts as they fail—or even switch bodies altogether—is pretty enticing. So’s the idea of leaving the city. It’s not that it’s all bad here. Life is good, and it’s not like it feels stifling. The city is huge; though Sooyoung is already in her twenties, she hasn’t nearly explored all of it yet. But still, the knowledge that this may very well be all they have—and that if something happened, and their safety here was compromised, there would be no backup—is all very terrifying. <em> And a vast enclosure is still a cage</em>, she thinks. <em> It would be nice to be able to get out. </em></p><p> </p><p>“How much does a mod cost?” Seulgi asks. “Just one. One simple mod that could change your life, it costs more than some people could dream to make in a hundred lifetimes. How do you think this will go? Nothing about this would be revolutionary. All it would do is reinforce the power structures already in place.”</p><p> </p><p>Joohyun opens her mouth, but there’s a tone over the speakers. “Kim Yerim has arrived.”</p><p> </p><p>Joohyun gives an exasperated sigh, and stands, striding sharply out of the room, her heels clacking smartly against the floor.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you think, Sooyoung?” Seulgi asks, turning to her as Joohyun’s footfalls fade.</p><p> </p><p>“I mean, Joohyun has a point. We’re so close to having this kind of life-saving tech. It would be a horrible shame to waste it,” Sooyoung says. “I mean, imagine if we could’ve done that for Seungwan. Imagine if it hadn’t been experimental at the time; imagine if there had been tested replacements for her organs. Are you telling me you wouldn’t have leapt at the chance to save her?”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not what I’m saying,” Seulgi says. “But what about access? Seungwan had access to the experimental one by chance—just because she was lucky enough to have friends in high places. That’s not true for everyone. We need to fix the class divide first before we move forward with projects like this. Otherwise—what?” She spreads her hands. “Those of us with money, with status, with power, we get to play god?”</p><p> </p><p>Sooyoung worries her bottom lip between her front teeth. “But if we <em> could </em>solve it,” she says, “then what’s the harm?”</p><p> </p><p>“I still wouldn’t like it,” Seulgi replies. “You just—you keep modding and modding until—until when? Until what?”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s what <em> I </em>said.” Sooyoung looks up and sees Yerim walking in, Joohyun on her heels. “If you keep replacing things, eventually there’s no more human left. So there’s no point.”</p><p> </p><p>“I just can’t believe you’re siding with <em> her</em>,” Joohyun says, retaking her seat on the couch. “I mean, you of all people should understand me, Yerim! What happened to my father, your mother? Don’t you wish you could reach back in time and change things?”</p><p> </p><p>“We die for a reason, Joohyun,” Yerim says, her voice quiet and sad. “We’re not meant to last forever. It’s something we have to accept.”</p><p> </p><p>“But we could <em> change </em> that,” Joohyun insists. “Imagine, anything you wanted! You’d have all the time to try and keep trying. And you’d never have to say goodbye to the people you love.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yerim’s right,” Seulgi says. “We are kept in check because we know we have to die. When you take that away—I mean, that kind of unrestrained hubris can only lead to corruption, right? This is what would happen: the rich would end up living forever, and the poor would become so insignificant that no one would care. The value of human life wouldn’t mean the same thing anymore. The rich would waste their time finding any way to spend the money they could never manage to spend, no matter how long they lived, squinting down at the poor like they’re just ants on the sidewalk.”</p><p> </p><p>“I think it’s funny how you’re acting like I’m being cold and unreasonable,” Joohyun says, her voice steely. “The scenario you present doesn’t necessarily have to be reality. But regardless, those kinds of mods could save lives. Maybe you can’t understand what it’s like to lose someone like that, since Seungwan was only your friend. But to me, it’s simple. The death I’ve seen, the <em> family </em> I’ve lost, it’s not fair.”</p><p> </p><p>Sooyoung sucks in a breath. It doesn’t matter who’s right; Joohyun implying Seulgi simply didn’t care about Seungwan isn’t fair, either. She watches Seulgi, bracing for an outburst.</p><p> </p><p>But after a moment of staring at Joohyun, the fire dies in Seulgi’s eyes, and she sits back. When she speaks, her voice is soft and trembling. “I know you want your dad back,” she says to Joohyun. “I know you want Seungwan back. We <em> all </em> do. You’re right. It’s <em> not </em> fair<em>. </em>None of them should have had to die.” She reaches a hand out to Joohyun, and Joohyun lets her. “But I don’t want to live forever. I’m still young, and one life has already exhausted me beyond belief. Our minds would crack and shatter; the wrong people would keep themselves alive until they were completely unrecognizable. I don’t want to lose anybody. I wouldn’t want to lose you. But that’s not a solution. It’s just another kind of loss.”</p><p> </p><p>To Sooyoung’s surprise, Joohyun doesn’t bite back. She just sighs. “I just wish so many things were different,” is all she says. “I want to fix everything.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think any of us can,” Seulgi says gently. “But if we could, chasing immortality wouldn’t be the solution.”</p><p> </p><p>Sooyoung looks back and forth between them. Clearly, they’ve started to work something out that she’s been entirely blind to, because though they were at each other’s throats only moments before, their care for each other has eclipsed both of their needs to be correct. A faint smile tugs at her lips. <em> Finally</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Besides,” Yerim says after a moment. “We have bigger issues right now.”</p><p> </p><p>The three of them look up at her, eyes wide. “What?” Joohyun asks, moving to get up. “Are you alright?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I’m fine,” Yerim says, waving at her to sit back down. “Nothing like that. This is only tangentially related. Joohyun, do you have…” She gestures above her head sort of vaguely.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Joohyun says, pulling out her phone and tapping a couple of times. “Okay, go ahead.”</p><p> </p><p>“You all know Zeus Engineering, right?” Yerim says. They nod. “The CEO’s son reached out a couple of days ago. Kim Jungwoo. We met for a meal in the city. He wouldn’t say anything directly, but I think he’s scared.”</p><p> </p><p>“What’s there to be scared about?” Joohyun scoffs.</p><p> </p><p>“One of his friends recently went missing,” Yerim says. “He was the one to respond to the Choi case. Again, Jungwoo-ssi didn’t really go into detail, but it sounds like his friend had his doubts about Choi’s guilt, and the legitimacy of the investigation.”</p><p> </p><p>Seulgi points at her excitedly. “I’ve been saying there’s something wrong with that case!” she says.</p><p> </p><p>“So why’d he contact you?” Sooyoung asks Yerim, confused. She thinks of Johnny, and his father. <em> Was he involved, too? </em>she wonders to herself.</p><p> </p><p>“He said he’s curious about our mod limbs,” Yerim says. “I don’t know why it was relevant, but he just asked if I, or one of my friends, could kind of… look through the manufacturing and coding and see if we find anything strange.”</p><p> </p><p>“I bet he just wants to know how we make them so he can steal the concept,” Joohyun says.</p><p> </p><p>Yerim shakes her head. “No, he didn’t ask for mockups or even excerpts of the code. He just wanted to know if there was anything odd.”</p><p> </p><p>“Or maybe he wants to act like something’s wrong, so that his father’s company can have more power,” Joohyun insists.</p><p> </p><p>“That wouldn’t make sense either,” Sooyoung says. “His father and the chairman are friends. Besides, they specialize in different things. They’re not in competition.”</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose it would be unlike him,” Joohyun concedes. “He’s not very business-minded. He just likes his work.”</p><p> </p><p>“If he wanted to steal information, he would’ve done it when he was at the launch party,” Seulgi points out. “I don’t know him, but I feel like I’d like him and his friends.”</p><p> </p><p>“From the little I <em> do </em> know of him, I like him too,” Joohyun agrees begrudgingly.</p><p> </p><p>“So will you two be able to take a look?” Yerim asks, turning her gaze to Sooyoung and Seulgi.</p><p> </p><p>Sooyoung nods with Seulgi. “I’ve never noticed anything in the coding before, but I only manage a very small part of it. I’m busy enough as it is, so I never really go poking around the programs that I’m not in charge of or don’t need.”</p><p> </p><p>“Same here,” Seulgi says. “I help build things, but I don’t undo or inspect other people’s work. But what is he looking for?”</p><p> </p><p>Yerim just shrugs, wide-eyed. “I don’t know if <em> he’s </em> even sure. Just anything weird.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure,” Seulgi says. “I just hope everyone—all of us, included—are prepared for anything we might find.”</p><p> </p><p>“What would there be to find, though?” Joohyun asks. “What is he insinuating?”</p><p> </p><p>Yerim’s gaze turns uncharacteristically fierce. “Joohyun, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me and my father. But don’t you wonder what happens behind closed doors? All those secret meetings. All the nights spent working in his office while the rest of the company sleeps. My mother’s death, Seungwan’s death, they changed all of us. But they affected my father most of all. I don’t know what his plans are because he won’t let me anywhere near them.” She pauses for a minute, expression now pinched and drawn. “I need to know.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure this isn’t just coming from a place of rebellion?” Joohyun asks. “I know you wish for a more active role in the company. Are you sure you’re not seeing fault where there is none, just because it soothes your need for some kind of vengeance?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know,” Yerim replies. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I want there to be something wrong because I feel trapped. But clearly, I’m not the only one who has suspicions.” She sighs. “Look, let’s just check. And if it’s nothing, you can berate me for being selfish and childish all you want. It’s not that I think my father is evil, Joohyun. You know that. But you have to realize something in this city isn’t right. I’ve been thinking about it for days now. If my father’s not involved, it will bring me some peace. But either way, we can’t just ignore it because it hasn’t affected us yet.”</p><p> </p><p>Even with all her fire and her righteousness, Joohyun, like the rest of them, has a soft spot for Yerim. If she’d been arguing with Sooyoung, or Seungwan, or especially Seulgi, she probably would’ve kept pushing. But Yerim, even with her new changes, is still Yerim. So Joohyun just sighs and nods. “Okay,” she agrees. “I understand.”</p><p> </p><p>Sooyoung folds her hands in her lap, thinking. “Why don’t we stay late tomorrow?” she suggests to Seulgi, who nods. “See what we can find.”</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s meet here when you’re done,” Joohyun suggests. “And we can figure out what to do together.”</p><p> </p><p>Seulgi nods firmly. “It’s a plan.”</p><p> </p><p>&gt;&gt;&gt;:&lt;&lt;&lt;</p><p> </p><p>Sooyoung left a little early to loop the camera feed for Seulgi’s workspace. She has it set to start playing footage from the night before at the click of a button, a few wires from her right hacker patch plugged into the control panel on the wall around the corner from the workspace. She peers down the hallway and sees some of Seulgi’s coworkers lingering in the doorway.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ll be okay closing everything up by yourself, Seulgi-ssi?” one of them asks.</p><p> </p><p>Seulgi looks up from her tinkering. “Yeah,” she says, waving him away. “I’m all good. See you!”</p><p> </p><p>Sooyoung ducks back around the corner, pressing herself to the wall while the stragglers pass. She hears some clinking, and then a few moments later, she sees Seulgi step out and close the doors. She waves at Sooyoung, and Sooyoung switches the feed quickly, typing away at the holo keyboard projected by her hacker patch. She gives Seulgi a thumbs up, and she reenters the workspace without a word.</p><p> </p><p>Sooyoung finishes up, disconnecting herself from the panel and retracting all her tools back into her patch as she walks down the hall.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi,” Seulgi says when she enters, not looking up from her work. “I’ve already gotten a start here. Nothing so far. I told them to leave a computer on.” She nods at the one lit screen. “Let’s try to be quick.”</p><p> </p><p>Sooyoung pulls up the code for arm, the most recent release, and opens the files for things like the skin sensors—things she doesn’t normally care to look at—and starts scanning.</p><p> </p><p>They’re quiet for a while; the only noises are those of Seulgi’s tools or the clacking of Sooyoung’s keys. It’s soothing, and kind of reminds Sooyoung of when they were still in school. She and Seulgi and Seungwan would find a space to study together, and then <em> actually </em> study. They’d just keep working until they got everything done. Sooyoung has never been able to find that sort of peaceful productivity anywhere else.</p><p> </p><p>Seulgi sighs loudly and pushes her chair to the side. “I can’t tell,” she says. “We’d need better equipment if we want to see what this is made out of. I don’t want to try to use anything here because…”</p><p> </p><p>“Documentation, yeah,” Sooyoung says, nodding. “Why don’t you take it with you? Maybe we can see what we can do. I’m sure we can find people who could help us. I know one of Jungwoo’s friends, you know. One of them has to be good for something.”</p><p> </p><p>Seulgi snorts. “I hope so,” she says. “Have you found anything?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing solid,” Sooyoung says. “But I’m looking at the code for the skin—you know, like sensors and heaters and stuff? But there’s not as much in here as I thought there’d be. It’s almost like the skin is made from… actual skin. Which—I know is the goal, but the point of our jobs is to make the artificial seem real. I mean, the whole selling point is that we use a compound that’s perfect for mimicking the behavior of actual skin cells.”</p><p> </p><p>Seulgi frowns, looking back at the deconstructed arm. “UltraViolet’s mods are praised for being so realistic,” she says slowly, “so compatible with the human body. Maybe… maybe it’s because they’re more similar than we think.” She looks back at Sooyoung. “Do you think we’re using something else?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t see how we couldn’t be,” Sooyoung says. “But it doesn’t make any sense, like—we’d need to be producing such huge quantities of lab-grown materials, which I didn’t know we had the tech for. Sure, we know how to grow cells in a lab. But not like this. Not on this scale. So where are the labs? Where are we getting the material?” She shivers a little. “I’m gonna download this code,” she says, opening her hacker patch and plugging in a USB. “I’d like to get out of here before security swings by.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, probably a good idea.” Seulgi begins packing up the arm while Sooyoung waits for the download. “Besides, Joohyun is probably pulling her hair out by now. We’ve made her and Yerim wait long enough.”</p><p> </p><p>Sooyoung disconnects from the computer and begins the process of shutting it down. “Joohyun’s going to have a hard time with it,” she says softly. “To find out we’ve been lied to. Even worse than Yerim.”</p><p> </p><p>“Joohyun idolizes the chairman a little too much,” Seulgi replies. “And I understand why. He’s taken care of her, and her mother. And he <em> is </em> kind, even if he’s a bit reclusive and odd. But she needs to stop letting her gratitude to him, and her hunger for the power and status that afford him such security blind her to reality.”</p><p> </p><p>“Joohyun may be headstrong, but she’s not stupid.” Sooyoung follows Seulgi out the door and down the hall, where they pause at the control panel so she can set the cameras back to normal. “If she’s presented with enough evidence, she won’t remain loyal to him just for loyalty’s sake. Same as the rest of us, you know?” She disconnects herself from the panel with a satisfied grunt. “There. Let’s go. We all have our reasons for wanting to believe the chairman,” she continues. “But none of them will be strong enough reasons if we unearth something serious.”</p><p> </p><p>Seulgi nods. “You’re right,” she agrees. They step out into the cold together, and she blows out a long breath, watching it fog up and drift away. “What a fuckin’ week, huh?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Sooyoung says, running her hands through her hair. “Unless we’re way off base, it’s only going to get rougher from here.”</p><p> </p><p>“What’s gonna happen if we’re right?” Sooyoung asks. “If people find out the company’s been lying, that’s it, you know? Where will we go?”</p><p> </p><p>Seulgi shrugs. “We’re all very talented,” she says simply. “Another company will snatch us right up.” She grins. “Fuck, if Jungwoo-ssi’s dad’s not involved, we could just ask to go work with him.”</p><p> </p><p>Sooyoung smiles, too. “I guess that wouldn’t be so bad,” she agrees. “As long as we’re all together.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ty for reading! </p><p><a href="https://kjmsupremacist.tumblr.com/about">tumblr</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/_kjmsupremacist">twitter</a> | <a href="https://curiouscat.me/kjmsupremacist">curiouscat</a></p><p>im serious abt my tumblr we have such good times + i post drabbles and other things that I don't post to ao3 :0 the other day i posted me talking (and singing) so come say hey!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yuta walks the halls of a familiar house. He knows what’s going to happen, but he walks slowly all the same, all the way to the end of the hall, where he pushes the door open. </p><p> </p><p>His mother is nearly swallowed by the bed. Yuta’s father is at her side; he lowers his voice when he hears the door creak. “…not too late, you know? I could still go—”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Yuta’s mother replies, sharply. “No, Tatsuo,” she repeats, quieter and more gently. She reaches up with a trembling hand to touch her husband’s face. “We wouldn’t want to risk ending up on the other side of the mirror.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Yuta’s father says.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not your fault,” his mother replies. “And this <em> will </em> work. There’s no need.”</p><p> </p><p>“Where are your sisters, Yuta?” His father turns to him.</p><p> </p><p>“Haruna was crying,” Yuta says softly. “Momoka told me to come check with you.”</p><p> </p><p>There’s a knock on the door, and the man who owns the house pokes his head into the room. “Tatsuo-ssi? It’s time.” He opens the door wider, and Momoka and Haruna slip past. “I thought they might want to wish Sayuri-ssi good luck.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, thank you.” Yuta’s father gestures all three of them closer. “Come give your mother a hug,” he says. </p><p> </p><p>Yuta knows what’s going to happen, but he walks forward all the same, leading his sisters to his mother’s bedside. They take turns hugging her tightly; Momoka kisses her temple. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll see you guys soon,” their mother says, and then they’re whisked from the room.</p><p> </p><p>“Mama will be okay, right?” Haruna asks.</p><p> </p><p>“The doctor will do his best,” their father replies.</p><p> </p><p>Yuta knows what’s going to happen, but he finds himself taking Haruna’s hand all the same. “It’ll be alright,” he tells her.</p><p> </p><p>The next time they see their mother, she’s in a casket. Momoka helped their father with the funeral arrangements, and Yuta was tasked with staying at home to watch Haruna. At her funeral, Yuta and his sister accompany their father to the podium. Their father keeps his speech short; Yuta can’t tell what he’s saying. It’s all muffled in his ears, something about a perfect mother and a perfect wife. His lips move of their own accord along with everyone else’s as they send her off.</p><p> </p><p>“Now I give you back to the world,” he mumbles in chorus. “May you find your freedom out beyond these walls, and one day when the earth turns over once more, I will meet you there.” Haruna clings to his hand the whole time. </p><p> </p><p>He raises his head and looks up at his mother’s casket. He almost expects her to rise. He wants her to. But she stays still, stays lying down, stays dead.</p><p> </p><p>Yuta gasps as he wakes up, twisted in sweaty sheets. He pushes his bangs off his forehead, staring at nothing in the dark. Tears gather in his eyes and he lets himself cry silently in the stifling space of his tiny bedroom. It’s been over ten years and still, he gets these nightmares. Sighing, he fumbles for his phone, brushing a few stray tears away so he can see. It’s 04:18, too early for even his father to be awake. He blows out a steadying breath, and flops back down on his pillow. Though he’s tired, no matter how he tosses and turns, he can’t get back to sleep.</p><p> </p><p>&gt;&gt;&gt;:&lt;&lt;&lt;</p><p> </p><p>The passing of information is difficult these days. They’re all busy, and they can’t keep meeting for no reason. Jungwoo’s working on securing some kind of line for their phones, but he’s also working on the phones, so the work is slow. So usually news shows up at the front doorstep, unexpected, and unannounced.</p><p> </p><p>This time, it’s especially inconvenient. Yuta’s finally got the unit to himself—his father is on a job somewhere in the city, Momoka’s at the shop, and Haruna is at school. So, naturally, he and Sicheng are naked in his bed when the doorbell rings. </p><p> </p><p>“We could just ignore it,” Yuta whispers.</p><p> </p><p>Sicheng affords him a small smile, but pushes his shoulder. “No, it’s probably important. Get dressed.”</p><p> </p><p>Yuta sighs, rolling off the bed and landing on his feet. He knows Sicheng is probably right. He scoops his underwear and pants up off the floor, forgoing his shirt, and tugs them on as he hobbles out of his room.</p><p> </p><p>Johnny has his hand poised over the doorbell when Yuta yanks the door open. A blast of cold air rushes in, and Yuta immediately regrets his shirtlessness. </p><p> </p><p>“We have something,” Johnny says; Yuta peers around his broad shoulders to see Ten behind him. “We’re gonna go to Jungwoo’s. Sicheng’s with you, right?</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Yuta says, gesturing to his body. “Thanks for the interruption.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’ll want to hear this,” Johnny replies, giving him a somewhat exasperated look. “C’mon.”</p><p> </p><p>“Come in,” Yuta says, gesturing them inside. “Wait here.”</p><p> </p><p>Sicheng’s already dressed when Yuta ducks back into his room. He tosses Yuta’s shirt to him, a worried look on his face. “Everything okay?” he asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, we’re going to Jungwoo’s,” Yuta says. “It doesn’t seem like… you know, anything bad’s happened.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay.” Sicheng fluffs his hair and then gestures to the door. “Let’s go, then.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hurry up,” Ten says as they step back out into the living room. “People are waiting for us.”</p><p> </p><p>They travel quickly and quietly. Yuta holds Sicheng’s hands on the train while Johnny and Ten have a silent conversation with their eyes; Yuta watches the suburbs turn to city out the window. And soon, they’re in front of Jungwoo’s building.</p><p> </p><p>Yuta breathes out a sigh of relief once they’re inside. “It’s so fucking cold out there,” he mumbles, earning himself a sharp glare from the droid manning the front desk.</p><p> </p><p>Yukhei greets them at the door instead of Jungwoo, shutting it quickly behind them once they’re inside. “Lockdown protocol, Athena.” Yuta watches the windows dim further; he hears a lock click in the door.</p><p> </p><p>They shuffle into Jungwoo’s dining room, and there at the table, Yuta sees Jungwoo, Mark, Shotaro, and two young women who he doesn’t recognize. He gives Shotaro a questioning look; Shotaro gives him a reassuring one in response, flicking his eyes to the open chairs beside him.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi, thanks for coming,” Jungwoo says softly. “Come sit, please. Would anyone like something to drink? To eat?”</p><p> </p><p>“Water?” Johnny asks.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll get it,” Yukhei says, resting a hand on Jungwoo’s shoulder when he tries to stand.</p><p> </p><p>Yuta slips into the seat next to Shotaro, bringing Sicheng to sit on his other side. They all settle into their chairs, and Yuta looks around expectantly.</p><p> </p><p>“So,” Jungwoo says. “I think some introductions are in order.” He gestures to the first girl. She has a round, open face, and she smiles gently when they all turn their eyes to her. “This is Sooyoung,” he says. “She works for UltraViolet. She’s close friends with Kim Yerim, and the other day she and her friends reached out to me with some information. She’s also Johnny’s family friend.” Yuta feels Sicheng relax a little beside him as Jungwoo continues, “I reached out to Yerim-ssi last week and asked if she could look into the manufacturing of their mod arms. Sooyoung-ssi and Seulgi-ssi confirmed for me that there was something odd, and they even provided us with a sample. Kun is with Seulgi-ssi now, running some tests. Sooyoung-ssi handed the code off to Jisung, so we’ll find out what exactly is going on soon, but…”</p><p> </p><p>“But?” Ten prompts.</p><p> </p><p>“But it sounds like UltraViolet’s mod limbs and the occurrences of unidentified body parts are connected,” Sooyoung fills in. “Seulgi and I were hoping Zeus Engineering wasn’t involved, but it sounds like we’re out of luck.”</p><p> </p><p>“They asked if we were hiring,” Jungwoo explains in response to a few confused looks. Yuta snorts to himself as Jungwoo turns to the other girl. “Anyway, this is Shufang. She runs pay-what-you-can self-defense classes, which Ten has been attending. She offered to help us. She teaches Sooyoung’s little sisters as well. Most notably, though, she knows how we can find out more about that gang, Yuta.”</p><p> </p><p>Yuta blinks in surprise, leaning forward a little. “You do?” he asks.</p><p> </p><p>Shufang turns her eyes to him, tucking a strand of pink hair behind her ear. “Yes,” she says quietly. “I had a friend when I was younger who ended up getting roped in. I remember one day she just—disappeared. Straight off the face of the earth. It was a couple years before we would have graduated. She was just… gone.” Shufang looks down at her hands. “Almost a year later, she showed up—in my trailer. In, not outside.”</p><p> </p><p>Yuta can only stare. It almost feels like she’s telling a ghost story. “She told me she was so sorry she hadn’t been able to tell me where she’d gone,” Shufang continues. “She said that she had agreed to do something dangerous that night, and that if she didn’t survive, she was allowed to pass on a favor to a close friend or family member. Her father was dead, and her mother kicked her out when she was fifteen, so I was all she had. She told me if I found an envelope slipped under my door the next morning, I’d know she was dead.</p><p> </p><p>“I asked her to explain, but she said she couldn’t. She said she technically shouldn’t even be visiting me, but her superior had made an exception. She wouldn’t even tell me the name.” Shufang shakes her head. “I tried to stay up. But I fell asleep sometime in the early morning. I found this note resting a few feet inside my door when I woke up.” She pulls a folded piece of paper from her pocket and slides it across the table to Yuta. </p><p> </p><p>He unfolds carefully. <em> Thank you for your service. If you are ever to need us, come to the center of the Night Market, 35.9078° N, 127.7669° E. Stand on the spot and say aloud: I come to you now when the sun has gone out. You will be asked which road you wish to take. If you need our help with something, simply say: help me step back into the light. If you need to disappear, say: I wish to travel to the other side of the mirror. </em>It isn’t signed; instead, there is the now-familiar half-sun symbol in the bottom corner.</p><p> </p><p>Yuta jolts in his seat. “This—” He points at the last line. “My mother said something like this to my father the day she died.”</p><p> </p><p>There’s complete silence; Yukhei is in the middle of distributing snacks now, and he freezes with one hand hovering a foot above the table. </p><p> </p><p>“You said your father knew something about them, right?” Shotaro asks softly after a moment. “Maybe it was because of your mother.”</p><p> </p><p>Yuta pushes the paper back to Shufang. “Well, now I have to go,” he says, determined.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not that simple,” Shufang says, pocketing the paper again. “I never called in this favor. I’ve been saving it. But I did do some digging. I did it all off the grid. I’ve never stepped foot into the Night Market, just in case, but I’ve asked around.” She sighs, sitting back in her chair. “Most gangs, they exist primarily out of a need for survival. But the Umbra—this gang, there’s something else. I’ve talked to victims, to witnesses. I even found an ex-member that managed to escape. It’s something much more serious. Government officials are involved. Businessmen, too.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why are they called the Umbra?” Sicheng asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Because their goal is to block out the sun, as they put it,” Shufang says. “No one I asked could give me the same answer. Some say it’s for government control. Some say it’s businesses, trying to gain a monopoly. Others still say… well. What’s the difference, you know?” She shrugs. “But they have some kind of larger end goal for this city. That includes all of us, whether we know or want it. There’s a group of very powerful people that are working together towards—what, I don’t really know. I don’t think anybody knows.”</p><p> </p><p>“What does Umbra mean?” Yukhei asks.</p><p> </p><p>“The umbra is the innermost region of a shadow cast by an opaque object,” Shufang replies. “Umbra is actually the singular form of the noun; the plural is umbrae. But the idea is that together, every single member and every little moving piece will cause the total eclipse of the sun. That’s the reason the logo is only a half-sun. It reminds every member that they’re only one small part of this overarching plan; that even if you cover up half the sun, it still won’t have the effect that you want.” </p><p> </p><p>“Is it a setting sun?” Johnny asks. “I’ve been calling them ‘The Sunset Gang’ in my head.”</p><p> </p><p>This draws a surprised laugh out of Shufang. “No,” she says, her voice warmed by her smile. “The lines under the sun represent a mirror—they are supposed to be a reflection of society. That’s what the bit about traveling to the other side of the mirror means. As a member of the Umbra, you are invisible. You’re ever-present, but no one really sees you, or pays attention to you, because you’re not doing anything visibly out of the ordinary.”</p><p> </p><p>“So,” Yuta says slowly. “When they ask if you want to disappear, they’re asking if you want to join them.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Shufang confirms. “I have a feeling one of your parents must have gotten a similar note. Do you know anything about their involvement with the Umbra?”</p><p> </p><p>Yuta shakes his head, frustrated. “I didn’t know until a couple of weeks ago that my father had anything to do with them at all,” he replies. “All he said was that he had a run-in with them when he was younger, and that he never wanted anything to do with them again. He wouldn’t tell me anything about who they are or what they do.”</p><p> </p><p>“Does this mean that the chairman of UltraViolet and-and Jungwoo’s dad, they’re a part of the Umbra?” Mark asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Not necessarily,” Shufang says thoughtfully. “They could be. Or they could just be working with them. Maybe they have a common goal, or maybe the Umbra is giving them money, or protection—it’s hard to say.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well,” Johnny says, “there’s one way to find out. A few of us go, and act like we want to join.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s too dangerous,” Ten says immediately, eyes flashing. “Either they’ll call you out on it, or they’ll think you’re serious, and they’ll make you stay.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why can’t we just ask for help?” Jungwoo asks.</p><p> </p><p>“They probably won’t let you see anything if you’re just asking to call in a favor,” Mark points out.</p><p> </p><p>“They usually blindfold every visitor, regardless,” Shufang offers. “So I would say it shouldn’t really matter which road you say you want to take, in that regard.”</p><p> </p><p>“Even so,” Sicheng says. “You ask for a favor, and then—what? They find out quickly that you’re just there to dig for information, and they’ll kill you on the spot. Only one person can go, right? So you’re in there, alone—it’s not worth it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I think if Yuta-ssi and I went together,” Shufang says slowly. “Maybe it would be okay. I have the note, and Yuta has his parents’ connection. Some of the rest of you could wait nearby, just in case we need help.”</p><p> </p><p>Yuta nods. “It wouldn’t be ideal, but I think if we tried to take any more people in, they’d just shoot us on sight.” He looks to Jungwoo. “Do you have some paper? I know the Night Market. We can figure out where the coordinates lead, and then make a plan from there.”</p><p> </p><p>Jungwoo nods, getting up to retrieve some materials as Johnny helps Yukhei clear the table. Yuta sees Sooyoung and Shufang put their heads close together, having a murmured conversation. Sicheng tugs on his arm.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not serious about this, are you?” he asks. His eyes are wide, scared. “Who knows if we’ll be able to get any information out of it? But we’ll be targets, regardless. It puts all of us in danger.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you have any other suggestions?” Yuta rebuts. “I know you’re worried, but we <em> have </em>to. For Johnny’s dad, for Jaehyun. For the whole city! We need the truth, and this is the best option we have.”</p><p> </p><p>“You could die,” Sicheng says, and Yuta sighs.</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” he replies, taking one of Sicheng’s hands in his own. “But all of us could die if we do nothing. It’s no more dangerous than just letting this go.”</p><p> </p><p>“But why do we have to be the heroes?” Sicheng presses, extricating his hand from Yuta’s gentle grip.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not trying to be a hero, Sicheng,” Yuta says. “I just want my life back. I want <em> our </em> life back.”</p><p> </p><p>“You think this’ll help?” Sicheng asks. “Yuta, if you do this, there will be no life to go back to.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then… so be it,” Yuta says. “Our old life wasn’t all that great, anyway.”</p><p> </p><p>Sicheng opens his mouth to reply, but Jungwoo has booted up a holo projector in the center of the table, and Yukhei’s handing Yuta a pen and piece of paper. </p><p> </p><p>“Let me plug the coordinates in,” Jungwoo says. “Shufang-ssi, could you show me that note again?”</p><p> </p><p>Shufang hands it over. “Can we all speak casually with each other?” she asks. “If we’re going to be working together on this, we might as well be familiar.”</p><p> </p><p>“Please,” Jungwoo agrees with a nod. “Okay, here.” He zooms in on the holo. “It says it’s right here, but it’s… it’s in the middle of an alley.”</p><p> </p><p>“Can you rotate the camera?” Yuta asks, peering at the projection. “Oh, I know that street. In the old days, it was a strip of bars and clubs for you to try, like, exotic drinks.” He looks down at the paper. “It’s pretty much right in the center of the market, so let’s put those coordinates here. The main bar street is here… it looks like it’s right in the middle of that alley. The other side is a wall, right?” Jungwoo rotates the camera around again, nodding. “The other side of the wall is the New East; it used to be, like, Northern Asian fusion and stuff like that. It takes up a couple of blocks. The street after the one with the bars and clubs is mostly empty now; I think the buildings are inhabited by squatters. But if you keep going, you’ll hit the fenced off area that was a beer garden. It’s a market with really high security now; I’ve never been inside, but I’m assuming that’s where those sex droids come from.”</p><p> </p><p>“The what?” Mark says nervously.</p><p> </p><p>“They steal human-emulator droids and hack them to become sex slaves,” Jungwoo says quietly. “They’re fond of our droids; we had to state in our warranty that loss of a droid due to theft was not on us unless you buy our security package, too.”</p><p> </p><p>“Some say they pass real people off as droids, too,” Shotaro murmurs. “Do you think the Umbra have something to do with it?”</p><p> </p><p>“They do,” Shufang says firmly. “I don’t know where along the line they are, I just know it’s lucrative, and they’re involved.”</p><p> </p><p>“So my point is, stay away from there,” Yuta says, drawing a circle around it and then slashing it out with an ‘X’. “Okay, so the entrance is here, so we’ll want a couple of people right outside to help us on our way out. We’ll want a couple people nearby covering the area—I’m assuming they’re stationed around there, so we want eyes on the exit. And we’ll need a couple safe places where we can all reconvene, with people who know first aid.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll go in,” Shotaro volunteers. “I know the Night Market, too.” </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll go in, too,” Jungwoo says. “I want to see what’s going on.”</p><p> </p><p>“I will as well,” Johnny offers. “Three people should be enough inside.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then I’ll be waiting outside,” Yukhei chimes in.</p><p> </p><p>“One group can come back here,” Yuta says, “if that’s okay with you, Jungwoo.” Jungwoo nods. “Okay, does anyone else live close to the market?”</p><p> </p><p>“Joohyun does,” Sooyoung says. “She’s one of our friends. I can wait outside of the entrance to the market and lead one group to her place.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll wait outside, too,” Mark pipes up. “Just in case someone needs a hand.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’ll probably want a few more people waiting around the edges,” Yuta says. He sees Sicheng and Ten lean back in their chairs out of the corners of his eyes. “In case someone’s injured, so we have enough people to help.”</p><p> </p><p>“Seulgi will want to be there,” Sooyoung says. “She’s useful in a fight. And she’ll be at Joohyun’s either way. I think it would be smart to keep Yerim away from all of this, just in case. We don’t need her father suspecting her. But she does know a doctor. I wonder if it’s too late for her to reach out to her.”</p><p> </p><p>“Kun’s a doctor,” Johnny reminds her. “Maybe he knows her, too.”</p><p> </p><p>“We also don’t need to do this right away,” Yuta says. “We can give ourselves a couple of days to plan. In fact, I think we <em> should </em> give ourselves a couple of days to plan.”</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s do that, then,” Shufang agrees. “See if we can get a few more people involved—and see what Kun and Seulgi have discovered.”</p><p> </p><p>&gt;&gt;&gt;:&lt;&lt;&lt;</p><p> </p><p>They spend the next few days preparing. Yuta runs over the plan in his head as he works, grateful for his stabilizers, so he doesn’t have to focus too hard as he measures out ingredients. Shotaro, Johnny, and Jungwoo will enter the market at sundown and find safe vantage points. They’ll be equipped with radio devices courtesy of Jungwoo, and will signal once they’ve settled in. Yuta and Shufang will come together about an hour later and follow a mapping device to the coordinates. Once they’ve been taken in, the three watching will radio to everyone else, and those who volunteered to wait outside will get into place, one by one. And then, they’ll wait and hope for the best.</p><p> </p><p>They decided it would be less suspicious if Yuta went back to Jungwoo’s with most of the boys, and Shufang went back to Joohyun’s. Johnny will be going with Shufang, Seulgi, and Jeno. The rest of them will come back to Jungwoo’s with Yuta. Kun and Doyoung will be waiting at Jungwoo’s; Joohyun and the doctor Sooyoung mentioned, Hyejin, will be waiting at Joohyun’s. </p><p> </p><p>For all his bravado in front of the others, especially Sicheng, Yuta is scared. He knows he might not return. He wants to say goodbye to his family, just in case, but he knows they’ll only try to stop him. His father, especially, wouldn’t let him out of his sight if he knew. So he contents himself in knowing that Sicheng will be able to tell them what happened if Yuta doesn’t make it back.</p><p> </p><p>Kun’s analysis confirmed what they feared—the UltraViolet mods are made from some kind of combination of synthetic and real skin; it was hard for him to piece out at first, but sections of the skin do not have a patent signature that denotes it as artificial. Jungwoo tracked the origin of the package he intercepted, and found that it had come from an empty building in the Night Market. Pieces are falling into place, but with each answer comes a new question. </p><p> </p><p>He meets Shufang at her place the afternoon of. The others are either at Jungwoo’s or Joohyun’s, but they wanted to make sure they were coming from different places so they wouldn’t be linked to one another before they got out. </p><p> </p><p>She offers him a cup of tea while they wait. The light inside her trailer is golden and beautiful, and Yuta realizes how close he’s lived to her without knowing her this whole time. He’s only known her a few days, but she seems like someone he would’ve gotten along with years ago. It makes him a little sad to think of it, and he wonders who else nearby might be someone he could find a friend in, if only he had the opportunity to meet them.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you thinking about?” Shufang asks, blowing on her tea. Yuta looks up, realizing he’s been staring off into space for a few moments now. </p><p> </p><p>“Just…” He smiles wryly. “You seem nice. And we’re walking into something that we might not come out of. It’s just a shame that we didn’t meet earlier.”</p><p> </p><p>Shufang smiles. “Well, if all goes well, we’ll have plenty of time to actually get to know each other,” she says. “Besides, even if our friendship only lasts a few short days—they’ve been good days, haven’t they?” She tilts her head. “I know what you mean, though. Sometimes you meet people, and it all just clicks.” Yuta nods. “I’ve felt that, with you guys,” she adds.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s such a pity, because we’re actually really fun normally,” Yuta says. “It’s just, things have been really life-or-death lately.”</p><p> </p><p>“I believe it,” Shufang says. “If Ten’s any indication.”</p><p> </p><p>The radio crackles to life before Yuta can respond. “In position.” It’s Johnny’s voice.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I guess we should finish up our tea and start heading that way,” Shufang says. “You don’t have any weapons on you, do you?”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Yuta says. “Nothing.” She’d warned him that anything he brought could be stolen from him, and Yuta didn’t wish to part with any of his knives, so he’d left everything at home. He grabs his coat from where it’s hanging, zipping it up while Shufang fastens her cloak. “You have the note?” Shufang holds it up, nodding, and opens her door.</p><p> </p><p>They take a train, sitting quietly next to families and workers, students and grandparents. Yuta can’t stop thinking about how each of these people has a life that he’ll never know about—just like they’ll never know about his, and what he’s about to do. If he dies, and images of his face are publicized, none of them will even remember this moment. It’s as chilling as it is oddly comforting.</p><p> </p><p>The sun is well below the horizon by the time they arrive at the front gates of the night market. Neon signs float, suspended by miniature drones, down each lane. They’re the only light source, so it gives the entire area a sort of eerie, otherworldly glow. </p><p> </p><p>“Shall we?” Shufang asks softly.</p><p> </p><p>Yuta nods, and together they step through the gates. Though Yuta knows where to go, they follow the little nav device. Its friendly beeps keep them company. Though the market is still and quiet on the outskirts, the closer they get to the center, the more people they see. They can hear voices coming from inside many of the buildings. Some people are huddled around open fires; others talk quietly with their heads bent over tables. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Nakamoto!” Yuta looks up and sees a guy his father has had over for dinner a few times. <em> Kobayashi-san, maybe? Way to respect your elders, Yuta. </em>“How’ve you been?”</p><p> </p><p>“Good!” Yuta raises a hand in greeting. “And yourself?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not too bad!” he replies. “What brings you around here? Errand for your father?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, personal business!” Yuta calls back, nodding to Shufang. “Got something to take care of.”</p><p> </p><p>“I won’t keep you then.” The man waves as he walks away. “Tell your father to stop by sometime!”</p><p> </p><p>“Will do!” Yuta relaxes as they round the corner.</p><p> </p><p>“Who was that?” Shufang asks, more amusement in her curious tone than fear.</p><p> </p><p>“A family friend,” Yuta says. “He’s not in the Sundews, but he works with my dad a lot. He’s well-liked around here. I can’t remember his name, though.” Shufang laughs quietly. “I think it’s for the better that he saw us. I’m sure plenty of people are reporting back now that I’ve got a friend here, so we should be safe.”</p><p> </p><p>“I see. Well, we’re almost there, in any case,” Shufang points out. </p><p> </p><p>They turn onto a side road. Yuta peers down the streets and sees the bright holo lanterns of the New East sector flickering in the distance. They take a left onto the bar street and finally come to a stop about halfway down.</p><p> </p><p>The alley is half-obscured by vines and various rubble. Behind them, music plays. Yuta wants to look up and search the roofline for his friends, just for some reassurance, but he knows it’ll only give them all away.</p><p> </p><p>“I guess we go in,” Shufang says, pointing their nav device towards the dark alley. “C’mon.”</p><p> </p><p>She has to duck under a few vines as they step through; they brush the top of Yuta’s head. He blinks, trying to adjust his eyes to the sudden dimness, following Shufang’s dark silhouette. The beeping from their device stops; it makes a little affirmative ding, and switches off. Shufang holds out her hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Stand close to me,” she says. “Ready?”</p><p> </p><p>Yuta nods as he takes her hand, holding it tight. “Ready.”</p><p> </p><p>“I come to you now when the sun has gone out,” Shufang says, loud and clear. Her voice rings in the empty space. </p><p> </p><p>There’s a long stretch of silence. Yuta glances around furtively, trying not to panic. He squeezes Shufang’s hand, and she squeezes back. </p><p> </p><p>And then, from an implacable source, a voice replies, “Which road do you wish to take?”</p><p> </p><p>Shufang is trembling; Yuta can feel it. But her voice is steady when she says, “Help me step back into the light.”</p><p> </p><p>Yuta hears movement, and a few moments later, a black bag is dropped over his head. He lurches forward, but Shufang holds him steady. He hears the scrape of metal on metal, and then his hand is wrenched from Shufang’s and he’s being held, arms pinned to his side. He’s patted down, pockets turned inside out; eventually, they’re satisfied.</p><p> </p><p>“Walk,” a rough voice says in his ear, and he can do nothing but step forward blindly.</p><p> </p><p>He’s led down a steep slope. He wants to call out for Shufang, but he’s afraid it’ll make things worse, so he stays silent. He hears talk die down around him as they move, but though it’s quiet, he can tell he’s surrounded by people.</p><p> </p><p>They walk for perhaps five minutes, passing through countless doorways and taking a dizzying number of turns before Yuta is shoved into a chair and the bag is whipped off of his head. </p><p> </p><p>He’s expecting harsh, white lighting, for some reason, but instead the room is lit only by a dozen or so candles. The walls are designed to look like a traditional house from early days, with dark wood and frosted glass. Yuta looks down and sees that he’s sitting on a simple wooden stool. Shufang is beside him, unharmed. They’re sitting at a table, and across from them is a figure. Yuta can’t see their face or discern anything else about them; they have on a stiff, wide-brim hat with a black veil draped over it. They’re wearing a long, black coat with a black turtleneck underneath, and gloves. </p><p> </p><p>“Do you have your messages?” they ask.</p><p> </p><p>“We just have one,” Shufang says. “It’s in my pocket, may I grab it?”</p><p> </p><p>The person inclines their head, and she pulls it out and passes it across the table to them. “And you?” they ask, turning slightly towards Yuta as they unfold it.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t have one,” Yuta says. “But my father told me about this. You might know him—”</p><p> </p><p>“I know who you are,” they interrupt, “Nakamoto Yuta.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><a href="https://kjmsupremacist.tumblr.com/about">tumblr</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/_kjmsupremacist">twitter</a> | <a href="https://curiouscat.me/kjmsupremacist">curiouscat</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The person folds the note and puts it down on the table. “With what do you require our assistance?”</p><p> </p><p>“Our friends are missing,” Shufang says. </p><p> </p><p>“Ah, yes,” they reply, nodding. “Seo Hyunki and Jung Jaehyun.”</p><p> </p><p>“Can you help us get them back?” Yuta asks.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” they say, and they don’t sound remorseful. “Unfortunately, they are where we need them.”</p><p> </p><p>“Can you at least tell us if they’re alive?” Yuta presses.</p><p> </p><p>The person hesitates for just a second, and then nods. “They are alive, both of them.” They fold their hands on the table. “Is there something else I can help you with?”</p><p> </p><p>“How can I make sure I’m not next?” Shufang asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Keep your head down,” they reply. “Don’t go looking for trouble.”</p><p> </p><p>“How can we do that, when trouble is everywhere?” Yuta asks. “I just want to know what’s going on, that’s all. Maybe I’d stop finding trouble if I understood.” He takes a breath, hoping they’ll cut in, but they don’t. “Maybe if I understood, I’d be on your side,” he lies. “Maybe I could help you.”</p><p> </p><p>The person stands so swiftly Yuta almost misses it. The next thing he knows, there’s a cold metal blade pressed to his neck. “Do you think you can fool me?” they hiss. “I know you would never join us.”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t know anything about me,” Yuta protests, focusing on staying very still.</p><p> </p><p>“I know your parents,” they say softly. “I’ve known about you your whole life.”</p><p> </p><p>“Please,” Shufang says. “We just want to understand.”</p><p> </p><p>“We are not on the same side, Zhao Shufang, and you know that.” They press the cold steel of their sword closer to Yuta’s neck; Shufang tenses with him.</p><p> </p><p>From outside, a muffled voice calls, “Pardon, sir, but it’s important.”</p><p> </p><p>“Can it wait?” the man snaps, not moving an inch.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s—about the botched delivery,” the same voice replies, even more hesitant. “We caught him.”</p><p> </p><p>“I should kill you both now,” the man says quietly to them, but he relaxes, bringing his sword back down to his side. Yuta touches his neck, but it’s dry. He didn’t even draw blood. “But I can’t. Take this,” he adds, sliding the folded note back to Shufang. “You didn’t get to use it. If you have something legitimate, please feel free to return. Now get out. My people won’t kill you, but not everyone here is my people.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why are you helping us, then?” Yuta asks as he stands.</p><p> </p><p>“Your father saved my life,” the man says. “I’ll let you go this once in his honor. Don’t waste the chance.” He opens a door opposite the direction the voice came from, and shoves them out into the hall. “There’s a back exit past the cellars. That way.” He points down the dark hallway. “If you’re caught, there’s nothing I can do.” He pauses, then adds, “I do hope you get caught,” and slides the door shut sharply.</p><p> </p><p>“C’mon, c’mon.” Shufang tugs on Yuta’s arm, and he stumbles after her down the hall.  </p><p> </p><p>“How will we know where the cellars are?” Yuta asks.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know,” she replies quickly. “Just keep moving. Try not to draw attention. We’ll figure it out.”</p><p> </p><p>They weave between people; for her size, Shufang is quite agile, and Yuta has to struggle to keep up. He strains for snippets of conversation, anything to tell him what’s going on. But he only catches pieces.</p><p> </p><p>“—got his schedule wrong—”</p><p> </p><p>“—the patent on our own?”</p><p> </p><p>“—bot was programmed incorrectly—”</p><p> </p><p>“—can’t believe he ran!”</p><p> </p><p>“Look.” Shufang grabs his hand. “Cellars, that way.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why the fuck do they need signs?” Yuta asks as he follows her through the crowd.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a big organization,” Shufang says. “It seems like it’s a pretty big compound. They probably don’t have time to give new members a full tour, nor can they equip them with some kind of interactive map, so… signs.”</p><p> </p><p>They round the corner and find themselves surrounded by shelves of glass bottles. It’s quieter in this corner, though they see a group of people coming down the stairs on the other side of the room. </p><p> </p><p>“That looks like the exit,” Yuta says.</p><p> </p><p>“Mm-hm.” Shufang nods. “Let’s wait.”</p><p> </p><p>They hide among the shelves—Yuta’s pretty sure now that it’s rice wine of some kind—and wait for the group to disappear down another hall. The noise of their voices disappears, and they wait another moment before Yuta takes a step.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, let’s go,” he says. They jog to the stairs and hurry up them. Yuta hopes there’s no one at the top.</p><p> </p><p>The stairs lead out into a darkened, empty bar; it seems that everyone’s been called away to deal with the problem at hand. Yuta heads straight for the door, but it’s locked, and requires keys. </p><p> </p><p>“Shit,” Shufang mutters. “Do you know how to pick a lock?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, kind of,” Yuta says. “Do you have anything?”</p><p> </p><p>“I have bobby pins,” Shufang offers, taking a couple out of her hair and handing them over. </p><p> </p><p>Yuta accepts them, bending one and straightening the other, and bends over to try his hand. He can pick shitty locks, but he has a feeling this lock isn’t shitty. A moment later, the feeling becomes knowing—it’s electronically enforced.</p><p> </p><p>“Wish we had someone with hacker patches,” Yuta mutters. “Jungwoo’d be able to get us out.”</p><p> </p><p>“We could try to fry it,” Shufang says. “We’d need wires, though.”</p><p> </p><p>“You will do no such thing.” They both spin around, and see a middle aged woman standing in front of the bar with a gun in each hand. “Why aren’t you responding to the call?”</p><p> </p><p>“We were told to leave,” Shufang says. “Through this door.”</p><p> </p><p>“Told by who?”</p><p> </p><p>“We don’t know his name,” Yuta answers. “We’re not trying to—do anything. You can search us if you want. We just want to go home.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mm, that’s what a lot of new recruits say a couple weeks in.” She moves closer; Yuta can now see that her eyes are a bright gold. Something in her face looks familiar, though he can’t place from where. </p><p> </p><p>“No, really.” Shufang pulls out the note and holds it up. “We came for help.”</p><p> </p><p>“I find it unlikely that you’d just be sent away.” She’s in front of them now, and she presses the barrel of her gun to Yuta’s chest. “Was she helping you escape, hm? You know we can’t have loose ends.” She brings her shoulder towards her mouth. “I’ve got a couple runaways in the bar.”</p><p> </p><p>“I came for help, too,” Yuta says, almost pleading.</p><p> </p><p>“I may be old, but I’m not stupid,” the woman says. “I’ve seen you before, I know it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve never been here before!” Yuta tries to shy away from the gun, but he’s trapped against the locked doors. “Maybe you’re thinking of my father—Nakamoto Tatsuo.”</p><p> </p><p>To his surprise, the woman’s eyes go wide, and she takes a step back. “You’re Sayuri’s boy,” she says softly. </p><p> </p><p>“Rikona-ssi!” It’s faint, coming from down the stairs. </p><p> </p><p>The woman doesn’t reply. She puts one gun back in its holster on her hip, and taps her wrist. Yuta hears the lock click behind him. “Go,” she snaps. “Before I change my mind.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, how do you—?” But Shufang is pulling him out the door, and it swings shut in his face. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, but we need to go.” Shufang starts running down the street, and Yuta follows. “Try to make it home alive, and you can ask your father about it, yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Yuta replies, too dazed to argue. “Right.”</p><p> </p><p>Behind them, the door opens, and there are shouts. As they round the corner, Yuta hears gunfire.</p><p> </p><p>“Get us back to the entrance, idiot, I don’t know where we’re going!” Shufang says, pushing him in front of her. </p><p> </p><p>Yuta picks up the pace, hoping their hidden friends have caught on. There’s more gunfire, closer this time, and he ducks down an alley, pulling Shufang with him, dodging between overturned trash cans and coming out onto a larger road. “This way!” he says, turning to check that Shufang is still with him. </p><p> </p><p>Another figure appears in Yuta’s peripheral; he puts his arm up reflexively, but it’s just Johnny; he throws an extra coat and a face mask at Yuta and moves to give one to Shufang. Shufang had turned her cloak inside out as they ran, and clipped it so that it’s more like a poncho. Yuta struggles into the coat once the mask is on his face. It’s more to throw physical trackers off their trail—Jungwoo secured all the security feeds in the area.</p><p> </p><p>“Go, go!” Johnny says. “We already told the others to expect a fight. Just go!”</p><p> </p><p>Yuta nods his thanks, swerving down another side street while Johnny stays on the main road. He hears more shots, and hopes that none of his friends were hit. </p><p> </p><p>“Where is everyone?” Shufang pants out behind him. “There were tons of people out earlier.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe they have a way to clear the streets,” Yuta suggests. “Would make us easier to find.”</p><p> </p><p>“How, though?” she asks.</p><p> </p><p>Yuta doesn’t have to reply. When they round the next corner, it’s pouring. <em> Is it just a coincidence, or do they control the fucking weather? </em> Yuta wonders to himself as he ducks his head, squinting through the gloom. The rain pelts down on them as they run, freshly-formed puddles splashing up mud with every step. </p><p> </p><p>Thankfully, the entrance isn’t far now. Yuta hears more shots, and sees a couple of bodies near the gate, but they aren’t his friends. Shufang doesn’t stop to say goodbye, just starts running. Yuta sees Sooyoung start off after her. Yukhei grabs Yuta’s arm.</p><p> </p><p>“Where are the others?” he asks. “Jungwoo?”</p><p> </p><p>Yuta shakes his head. “I don’t know. I saw Johnny at the beginning but that was a little while ago.”</p><p> </p><p>Yukhei makes a noise halfway between frustration and pain. “Just go,” he says, pushing him towards Mark. “I’ll wait for them.”</p><p> </p><p>Mark is already jogging in place, and when he sees Yuta turn to him, he takes off down the street. Yuta resigns himself to more sprinting, gasping in breath as he follows him.</p><p> </p><p>A couple of blocks later, the rain stops abruptly. It’s almost worse, though, because now Yuta is acutely aware of how drenched he is. His feet squelch uncomfortably in his shoes with each step, and his coat is heavy. Still, he keeps running, keeping his eyes trained on Mark’s back until they slow to a stop in front of Jungwoo’s building.</p><p> </p><p>Kun lets them up, and soon Yuta’s changing into clean, dry clothes. Kun checks him over briefly before releasing him to get tea from Doyoung.</p><p> </p><p>“Any sign of the others?” Doyoung asks softly when he hands him a steaming mug.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes and no,” Yuta replies, breathing in the steam. “I didn’t even see Jungwoo or Shotaro, just Johnny. But when I left, everyone at the entrance was alright. Sooyoung ran back with Shufang. Yukhei’s waiting at the gate with Seulgi and Jeno.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, at least we know some of them are safe.” Doyoung follows Yuta into the living room, where Kun and Mark are sitting on different couches in silence. Doyoung takes a seat next to Kun, so Yuta slides into the seat next to Mark, offering him a lukewarm smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Are your hands cold, hyung?” Mark asks. “Here, I’m warm.”</p><p> </p><p>Yuta relinquishes his mug (it’s too hot to drink, anyway) and lets Mark envelope his freezing fingers in his palms. He can tell the other three are itching to ask what happened, but they’re also trying to give him a little space to catch his breath. Besides, it’s not like any of them will be able to focus until the others arrive.</p><p> </p><p>The minutes crawl by. Yuta feels helpless, trapped; he wants to go back out and search for his friends. But he knows it won’t help, so all he can do is sit and bounce his leg anxiously, hands wrapped in Mark’s hands even though he’s no longer cold.</p><p> </p><p>Just when Yuta’s considering panic, Athena chimes loudly, shocking all four of them out of their silence.</p><p> </p><p>They hear the front door open, and Yukhei calls, “Can we get a hand?” They all lurch to their feet, hurrying out to the hall, and see Shotaro and Yukhei holding Jungwoo up. Mark gasps in fear.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine,” Jungwoo grits out, raising his head as they hobble through the door. “Athena, lockdown please. Stop the block on the camera feeds, too. I got shot in the calf, that’s why we were so slow,” he adds, handing his jacket to Yuta and taking Kun and Doyoung’s hands. “Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>They help Jungwoo to the couch while Shotaro and Yukhei go change. “Does it hurt?” Mark asks once Jungwoo is lying down, wincing when Kun rips the fabric of his pants away from the wound.</p><p> </p><p>“Obviously,” Jungwoo says.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re lucky you have lots of muscle back here,” Kun comments neutrally, opening his bag and pulling gloves on. “The bullet got lodged in it. Your bone is untouched.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, good.” Yuta can’t tell if Jungwoo’s being sarcastic or not. </p><p> </p><p>“Were you followed?” Doyoung asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Only for a block or two,” Yukhei replies, coming around the corner and settling down as close to Jungwoo as Kun will let him. “Shotaro got the two on our tail pretty quick.”</p><p> </p><p>“So there’s bodies out in the streets?” Doyoung asks.</p><p> </p><p>Yukhei shrugs. “Yeah? I’m sure the Umbra is already working on collecting them.”</p><p> </p><p>“I still have my gun,” Shotaro announces quietly as he crosses the room to sit on the other sofa next to Yuta and Mark. “Sorry. I couldn’t find a place to trash it.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s fine, we’ll get rid of it in a bit,” Doyoung says. “It’s with your clothes?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I didn’t touch it with bare skin.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good. We’ll burn it once Jungwoo’s stable.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine,” Jungwoo says, muffled.</p><p> </p><p>“Hold still,” Kun mutters.</p><p> </p><p>“So—what happened?” Yukhei asks. “Why were they chasing you?”</p><p> </p><p>Yuta takes a deep breath, and begins to recount the evening. “I really thought my life was over, but then someone said something about a—a botched delivery, and they let us go. I guess it was really important.”</p><p> </p><p>Jungwoo gasps quietly. “Sorry, it wasn’t you, Kun—the delivery, do you think they were talking about the package that I received, when it was supposed to go to my father?”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe,” Yuta says slowly. “I heard people talking—something about a patent?”</p><p> </p><p>“A patent?” Jungwoo turns a little, thinking.</p><p> </p><p>“Jungwoo, I’m applying a local anesthetic,” Kun interrupts. “So I can take the bullet out. Your lower leg will be numb for about a half hour, so don’t freak out, okay? And don’t move.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmkay,” Jungwoo agrees. Yuta watches as Kun pulls out a syringe containing a pale blue liquid. He winces as he watches the needle pierce Jungwoo’s skin.</p><p> </p><p>“Anyway,” he says when he can bear to tear his gaze away from the operation happening in front of him. “So I heard something about a patent, and like, someone programming something wrong. But then we found the cellar, and we were alone.” He keeps talking, telling them what happened in the bar and trying to ignore the fact that Kun is currently removing a small block of metal from Jungwoo’s leg. “And this woman, she seemed to know my parents. She knew their names. And she unlocked the doors and let us go.”</p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t recognize her?” Shotaro asks.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s the thing—she seemed sort of familiar. Just barely. But I don’t know why, or how,” Yuta replies, shaking his head.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, you can move now.” Yuta looks over to see Kun carefully dropping the bullet onto a tray. “Not too much, I still need to clean you up.”</p><p> </p><p>“What did they say about the patent?” Jungwoo asks immediately, twisting a little so he can look Yuta in the eye. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know. I don’t remember. Everything was so crazy.” Yuta gives him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay, maybe Shufang remembers. Which—oh! Yukhei, will you hand me my phone?” Jungwoo reaches out for it, scrolling quicky. “Shufang sent a message, she says they’re all okay. I’ll let them know things are fine over here, too.”</p><p> </p><p>“Assuming it was about Jungwoo’s package,” Doyoung says, “then would the patent be in reference to the patent signature found on synthetic cells?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, but the limbs in that package weren’t synthetic,” Mark says. “So why would it be relevant?”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, that’s a good point,” Jungwoo agrees. “Why <em> would </em> it be relevant?”</p><p> </p><p>“The patent signature—or rather, the lack thereof—is what helped us figure out that the limb that Jungwoo brought to us was from a real person,” Doyoung says. “Maybe they’re trying to forge a patent onto real skin.”</p><p> </p><p>“That can’t be easy,” Kun murmurs, not looking up from his bandaging. “The patent signature is something inserted into the DNA of the synthetic cells and it’s something they produce as they grow. I don’t want to say anything is impossible, but forging one would be… extremely difficult.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe I can see what I can find out from my father,” Jungwoo says. “Ow, fuck!” he adds, loudly, and Kun lurches back, shocked. </p><p> </p><p>“Are you okay?” Kun asks. “What did I do?”</p><p> </p><p>Jungwoo turns, giving him a sly smile. “Kidding,” he says, and Kun rolls his eyes so hard, Yuta swears they might pop out of his head.</p><p> </p><p>&gt;&gt;&gt;:&lt;&lt;&lt;</p><p> </p><p>Yuta goes home early the next morning. They stagger their departures, and Yuta is second to go. He takes the train. The sun is just about to rise, so it’s quiet on the ride back to his unit; the car he’s in is almost empty. The sun has just broken the horizon when he arrives at his front door.</p><p> </p><p>His father is already up, fixing himself some coffee. Jungwoo had pushed leftovers into Yuta’s hands as he walked out the door, so Yuta leaves a box on the counter and shoves the rest in the fridge, and then heats up the container he said aside. His father doesn’t speak. He waits until Yuta’s set out dishes for them and taken his seat beside him before he asks where he’s been.</p><p> </p><p>“I know you have a lot of questions for me,” Yuta says softly as he switches on the jammer. “And I know some of my answers are probably going to disappoint you. But I also have questions for you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Kobayashi Minato told me he saw you in the night market yesterday with a girl. And then you didn’t come home last night. I heard about exchanged shots, and bodies pulled from the streets. I was afraid you were one of them.” His father sets his mug down quietly. “What were you doing there?”</p><p> </p><p>“I wanted to know more about the Umbra,” Yuta answers honestly, and his father stiffens. “I know—I know you told me to leave it alone. But my friend is missing, and—and strange things are happening in this city. It’s not just my friends. People are going missing, odd things are turning up every day. I won’t ignore it anymore. I can’t.” He sighs. “I know everything you do, you do to protect me and my sisters. And I am grateful for that. But that can only go so far. I know I’ve ventured into dangerous waters, but I think it’s important.”</p><p> </p><p>To his surprise, his father just gives him a tired smile. “As long as you know what you’re doing, I can’t really fault you,” he says. “Are you proud of the choices you’ve made?”</p><p> </p><p>Yuta nods firmly. “I am.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then that’s alright.” His father looks back down at the counter, pausing for a moment. “Can you tell me what’s going on? Why you had to go directly to the Umbra?”</p><p> </p><p>Yuta feels like his heart is being wrung out in his chest. He knows his father is only trying to understand, and he’s only worried for him. He’s about to tell him things that will scare him and put him in danger. And he knows he’s about to ask him questions that will be painful to answer. <em> It’s not an easy time for any of us</em>, Yuta thinks to himself. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I can tell you.”</p><p> </p><p>He tries to keep it as brief as he can—there’s no need to delve into the details when all they’ll do is make his father more concerned. His father listens and nods along as Yuta recounts everything that’s happened over the past couple of months. </p><p> </p><p>“So that’s why we needed someone to go into the night market,” Yuta concludes. “And I volunteered because I know my way around, but also because I was curious. And it was a good thing, too, because people we met knew me, and I think it saved our lives.” His father doesn’t reply. “Otousan,” Yuta presses. “Why did they know me? There was the man who spoke with us. He said you saved his life! And then the woman in the bar—her name was Rikona. She knew you and Kaasan.”</p><p> </p><p>“We told you that your mother and I met in school,” Yuta’s father begins. Yuta nods. “But that’s actually not entirely true. You know your mother grew up without knowing her parents,” his father continues, and Yuta settles in to listen. “Her adoptive parents were wonderful to her, but she always wanted to know who her birth parents were—specifically, who her mother was. When she was around twenty-two, she started digging. Everything was pointing her to the Umbra.</p><p> </p><p>“The same day she went looking in the night market, I was there on a job for the Sundews. We were trying to make a deal with another gang—I don’t remember their name. They’re not around anymore. They set us up. Luckily, we were ready, and it turned into a fight. But your mother was there, trying to find out about her parents. The man you talked to, his name is Hangyeol. I don’t know his surname. He was there that day, too, trying to deal with your mother. They ended up between the Sundews and that other gang, and I ran out into the crossfire to pull them to safety. I didn’t mean to help them, I just saw Sayuri, and I knew I had to help her.”</p><p> </p><p>“So that’s why—they gave you the same kind of letter that Shufang has,” Yuta says, nodding.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” his father confirms.</p><p> </p><p>“But then what about Kaasan? Did she find her parents?” Yuta asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” his father repeats, softer. “She met her mother, your grandmother. She asked her if she wanted to join, but there was something strange. Her mother looked like she was only ten years older than your mother. And not in that way, how some older people look like they’re younger than they are. It was unnatural. She should’ve been about fifty at the time, but she really could’ve been your mother’s older sister. And we found out that she’d been replacing body parts as they failed to keep herself young. <em> That’s </em> what the Umbra is trying to do—it’s not a gang, it’s—” His father chokes a little on his words. “It’s a cult. They’re convinced that we <em> must </em>become immortal.”</p><p> </p><p>Yuta can only stare. This whole time, they’ve been <em> so close </em> to the truth. “But then—so what’s all this with the—the severed limbs and things?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know,” his father admits. “We didn’t really stick around to find out more. It sounded crazy to both of us. And as thrilled as Sayuri was to have found her mother, it was all overshadowed by the fear and horror of finding out what she was involved in. They let Sayuri go because of her mother, and they let me go because I saved them. They told us if we needed anything—or changed our minds—the letter would help us.</p><p> </p><p>“And—I don’t know.” He drops his head to his hands. Yuta wants to reach out, but he doesn’t know how to comfort him. What could he possibly say? “When your mother got sick, I thought about it. We talked about going to them. But it—I mean, it’s not something I can stomach. Extending life like that… I don’t think anything good can come from it. And we couldn’t bear to expose you three to that. So we tried that retired doctor. And I hoped it would never come back to us. But here we are.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry.” Grief is tugging at Yuta’s shoulders along with the heavy, insistent pull of his guilt. His parents did all they could to keep him from the Umbra. His mother <em> died </em> to protect him. And he threw it all away yesterday without even knowing it. “I just—I knew there was something terrible going on, and I couldn’t sit around and do nothing.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s alright.” His father raises his head, and rests a hand on his shoulder. “We thought staying away from them would keep us safe. But we were wrong. It’s a small city. And you’re trying to protect yourself and save your friends. That’s nothing to be sorry for.” His gaze softens. “I’m proud of you. And I know your mother would be, too.”</p><p> </p><p>Tears sting behind Yuta’s eyes, and he grits his jaw, willing them away. “So then—the guy who let me go, that was Hangyeol. Who was the woman, then? Rikona?”</p><p> </p><p>His father’s eyes darken, and his grip on his shoulder becomes tight, almost painful. “Rikona,” he says slowly. “Is your maternal grandmother’s name.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ty for reading! sorry about how late it is! just a general announcement, this fic will be going down to once every other week! i'll update the desc as well :) in the meantime, socials below!</p><p><a href="https://kjmsupremacist.tumblr.com/about">tumblr</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/_kjmsupremacist">twitter</a> | <a href="https://curiouscat.me/_kjmsupremacist">curiouscat</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>sorry for the long wait etc!!! please enjoy ^^</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kun pushes away from his desk with a sigh, checking his watch. It’s nearly morning already. He’s lucky they’re still on break.</p><p>He yawns widely. Doyoung stayed up to help him, but he ended up giving in to sleep hours ago. He's in Kun's room, napping, while Kun runs more tests.</p><p>The initial analysis gave them more or less what they needed to know—that the mod arm Seulgi and Sooyoung stole is made of a mix of synthetic and organic skin cells. He'd done some other tests and taken a closer look, but hadn't been able to figure out much more. All he could tell was that because the organic cells were mixed in with the lab-grown ones, the skin could take on a preservative without compromising the feel. It was nice to know how exactly they were made, but Kun wanted to know <em> why. </em> Synthetic cells aren't perfect, sure, but the point of mods is that they're replaceable. When the cells eventually wear themselves down, the owner can just get a replacement. And so what if they feel just the slightest bit unnatural? It's not like mods are a secret. Lots of people have them.</p><p>Besides, organic material only functions well when it's attached to a real, living host. So even though the skin feels more natural, the skin will degrade faster this way. <em> Maybe they're just trying to get people to buy more—by making sure their products aren't built to last. It's not like UltraViolet has a whole lot of competition. People wouldn't have another choice. </em></p><p>He carefully puts everything away, his stabilizers the only thing stopping him from breaking something in the process. His vision swims a little bit. He needs to sleep.</p><p>He runs through some information just to make himself feel better as he pads upstairs to take a shower. <em> Chenle is working on his father to try and get some information. We should know soon if he can help us. </em> He slips into the bathroom, turning the water on in the shower and waiting for it to warm. <em> The UltraViolet girls are looking into the company some more, to see if we can get more material to test or maybe a new lead. </em> Kun steps into the shower. <em> Hyejin is looking into hospital records to see if we can figure out where these limbs are coming from. And tomorrow, Doyoung and I will start trying to come up with ways to leave a trail in case any of us are next. </em></p><p>He showers quickly, eager to crawl into bed and forget about all of this for just a few hours. The warmth of the water is nice, but he knows his bed will be better, where Doyoung has already built up a soothing bubble of body heat.</p><p>Kun towels off somewhat aggressively, stumbling a little when he swings his head up too fast. He secures his towel around his waist and creeps into his room, dark but for the sliver of light coming from where Doyoung had left the curtains cracked for him.</p><p>Doyoung is fast asleep in his bed, curled up with his back to him, barely visible under the covers. Kun looks over to his dresser and sees his pajamas already on top, folded neatly. Doyoung, as usual, looking out for him in weird little ways.</p><p>He tugs on his t-shirt and steps into his underwear and then his shorts. He hangs his towel up on the back of his door, and then carefully picks his way across the floor to his window, where he shuts the blinds completely. He's plunged into blackness, and he feels his way back to the bed.</p><p>Doyoung stirs as he climbs in beside him. "What time is it?" he croaks.</p><p>"Still early," Kun replies. "Go back to sleep."</p><p>"Not early enough," Doyoung grumbles, rolling over and extending an arm. "What were you doing?"</p><p>"Running more tests," Kun replies sleepily, letting Doyoung pull him close.</p><p>"What for?"</p><p>"I don't even know," Kun admits wearily. "I was tired, but... I don't know. I just didn't want to do nothing."</p><p>"You're not doing nothing," Doyoung says quietly as Kun finally, finally, shuts his burning eyes. Doyoung's hand is in his hair, brushing rhythmically. "You're with me. Am I nothing?"</p><p>"No, stupid," Kun mumbles.</p><p>"I'm not stupid, either," Doyoung says primly. "Go to sleep, Kun."</p><p>Kun doesn't need telling. He's already halfway under. The last thing he registers is the warmth of Doyoung's body next to his.</p><p>&gt;&gt;&gt;:&lt;&lt;&lt;</p><p>When Kun wakes, Doyoung isn't beside him. The room is still dark, and the scent of food hangs heavy in the air. Blearily, he pushes himself up, and then lurches to his feet.</p><p>He makes his way over to his window and pulls at the blinds. Bright sunlight streams in, momentarily blinding him. He squints, turning now to his dresser, and gets changed.</p><p>His parents are already gone to work; it's 11.00. Doyoung is in the kitchen, and he passes Kun a portion of instant bread, along with a couple of eggs and a small cup of freeze-dried fruit when he comes in.</p><p>"I already ate," Doyoung says by way of greeting as he sets a pan to soak in the sink. "I stole your phone, I hope you don't mind. I just didn't want it to wake you if someone called. And they did," he added, holding it up before setting it down on the counter and sliding it to Kun. "Seulgi says they found something—a door to a wing in the main UltraViolet building that shouldn't exist."</p><p>"What?" Kun asks, eating faster. "Why didn't you wake me?"</p><p>"You're no help to anybody when you're dead on your feet," Doyoung says. "Besides, it's not like we know how to get in. We'll need Jungwoo to work with Seulgi and Sooyoung to get through security, and he's actually being good and <em> resting</em>—unlike the doctor that gave him that order."</p><p>Kun rolls his eyes. "Jungwoo was shot in the calf less than a week ago, of course he should be resting," he replies. "I wasn't shot in the anywhere."</p><p>"Yeah, well," Doyoung says, clearly ready to move on. "Chenle also called. He said he couldn't get much out of his father, but it sounds like his father is working closely with Chairman Kim. He said that his father mentioned protecting the family 'at any cost,' which, understandably, raised a couple of red flags in Chenle's head."</p><p>"I'd hope so, otherwise I couldn't say I raised him," Kun notes, standing and carrying his empty plate to the sink. "So what's the plan for today?"</p><p>"Nothing yet," Doyoung says, shrugging. "We have to let the hackers work something out before we can proceed."</p><p>"Okay," Kun says. "Then let's get started on that communication plan."</p><p>Doyoung looks like he's about to argue, but then he just nods, resignation settling over his features. He knows Kun's happier when he's busy, even if he runs himself into the ground. And for all of Doyoung's sensibility, Kun knows he's the same way. They deal with fear by working; it's all either of them know.</p><p>&gt;&gt;&gt;:&lt;&lt;&lt;</p><p>"Scanner for you." Jungwoo places it on the table in front of Kun. "And for you." He moves along to Hyejin, then Yerim. Seulgi is turning hers over in her hands restlessly. "Okay." He slides into the seat at the head of his dining table. "Ten drew a map up for us based on what Yerim and Seulgi told him, so it should be pretty easy for you guys to find your way around."</p><p>It's a few days later; Jungwoo is nearly healed thanks to a couple of injections. He hardly limps now, but he won't be coming into the UltraViolet facility. Kun is going with Hyejin, Seulgi, Yerim, and Jaemin. They decided to keep the group relatively small so that movement would be easy, while still having enough people for protection and a range of skills. Kun and Hyejin will be able to understand the biological side of whatever it is they find; Seulgi will understand the mechanics. Jaemin is there to help them pick locks and sneak around, and Sooyoung has been teaching Yerim to code, so she'll be able to help with that. Originally, they had wanted to take Jisung, but Yerim said she wanted to see everything for herself, and Jungwoo said he'd need Jisung's help managing the security overrides.</p><p>Joohyun had protested at first when Yerim insisted on going, but Seulgi shouted her down pretty quickly. Hyejin, surprisingly, had also backed Yerim up, pointing out that this was Yerim's family they were talking about, and she had every right to see whatever was behind those doors with her own eyes. Yerim had been uncharacteristically cold and unforgiving with Joohyun as well, which Kun suspects had a large hand to play in Joohyun giving in.</p><p>The scanners were mostly for sensing personnel. Some of the camera systems were either nonexistent, or, more likely, on private servers behind cybersecurity that even Jungwoo and Sooyoung couldn't crack. The scanners would be able to pick up heat signatures even through a few meters of concrete, so they wouldn't be walking into rooms entirely blind. The scanner is also able to image the rough shape and size of the room on the other side of the wall—Jungwoo built it with technology from old bomb scanners that they used to use in airports in the early 2000s.</p><p>"They change shifts at 23.00, so we'll wait until the new shift is in place before we start knocking out cameras," Jungwoo says. "There won't be another shift change until early in the morning, which should give you plenty of time to get in and out. All guards have a tracker in their uniform to help with security, and Yerim was able to get her hands on a map that shows their location, so avoiding guards shouldn't be a problem. Yuta and Hyejin have been working together on changing the serum in those spider bots we have, so if we need to use them, they should keep the average person unconscious for about three hours. It would be better if we didn't need to use them, because it'll be less suspicious that way, but it's a good backup."</p><p>Kun pockets the scanner. <em> It's a good plan</em>, he tells himself. Seulgi and Yerim will wait inside the building—it isn't odd for them to be in and out even late at night. Kun and Hyejin wouldn't even be strange guests for them to have, but Jaemin poses a bit of a problem. They'll all be coming from different areas of the city, and they'll be using face coverings to thwart any face recognition tech, but on the off chance that they <em> are </em> discovered, Kun and Hyejin are easy enough to explain away. Jaemin, an uneducated pickpocket from the matchboxes, is a completely different story.</p><p>Kun will go to Chenle's to wait, since his place is closer to the business district than Kun's. Hyejin will be coming from Joohyun's apartment, and Jaemin will be coming from Jeno's.</p><p>Kun and Doyoung had come up with a sort of cursory idea for communication with anybody who’d been captured. They asked Jungwoo if he could secure some kind of network. They knew Morse code wouldn't be a good plan since only a few of them knew it, so they need something that allows people to send recorded or typed messages. Jungwoo said he'd work on it when he got the chance.</p><p>Kun goes to Chenle's around dinner; his parents are used to seeing him over every now and again, so it's not out of the ordinary that Chenle would invite him. They like him, because Kun is a doctor and he has perfect manners, so they think he'll be a good influence on their son. Chenle is not nearly as impressionable as Kun suspects his parents wish that he was, but he also likes to think he's had a hand in raising him.</p><p>This is all to say, Chenle opens the door with one hand on his hip, giving Kun an (undeserved, really) appraising look, his red eyes steely and focused. "You know, Doyoung mentioned that he feels like a housewife sending her husband off to war."</p><p>"Why on earth would he say that?" Kun asks mildly as Chenle shuts the door behind him.</p><p>"Well, you have more masculine energy than he does, to be fair," Chenle says, as if this settles it. "My parents are delighted, by the way. They say you haven't been over in <em> ages</em>."</p><p>"Just because you see me all the time doesn't mean they do," Kun points out.</p><p>"They like you better than they like me," Chenle says, but he's grinning.</p><p>"That's nonsense," Kun protests anyway. "Your parents love you."</p><p>"Oh sure," Chenle agrees, "but I can't imagine they <em> like </em> me."</p><p>Kun is spared from answering because Chenle's mother sweeps into the room and wraps him in a tight hug, and pulls them into the dining room.</p><p>Dinner is, as it always is with the Zhong family, an affair, even if Chenle's brother couldn't attend. They aren't left to their own devices until around 22.00.</p><p>Chenle helps Kun suit up, handing him his gloves while Kun adjusts the collar of the jacket, frowning at his reflection.</p><p>"Jungwoo asked Dejun's mom to have that custom-made," Chenle says pointedly, sensing his distaste.</p><p>"It's uncomfortable," Kun replies, tugging his gloves on.</p><p>"It's protective," Chenle retorts. "Here, your mask."</p><p>Kun realizes as he takes the mask from him that Chenle is only hovering now because he's worried. That's why he has been snippy all night, why he nudges Kun a little too hard now, telling him he's all set.</p><p>"I'm gonna be okay," Kun says softly. "We're all gonna be okay. And either way, we need to do this."</p><p>"I know," Chenle says, rolling his eyes, but Kun sees his shoulders sag a little. "Just make sure you bring back something useful."</p><p>"I'll do my best." Kun lets Chenle lead him out of the room, running his thumb over the scanner in his pocket. <em> My best, </em> he repeats to himself, <em> even if it might not be enough. </em></p><p>Chenle sees him to the front door, and waves once before shutting it. Kun waits until he rounds the corner before he puts the mask on, not wanting to scare Chenle's neighbors. It's cold out, but the jacket, in addition to the protection it offers from electronic devices, is also very warm. He walks at a brisk pace anyway, not wanting to be the last one there.</p><p>He arrives first, even after a detour around the far side of the shopping district when he realized he had extra time. The building is close to the main police department, so Kun keeps his distance, overshooting by a couple of blocks and weaving between buildings to make his path a little hard to follow. He waits in a nearby alley, squinting out at the street to see if he can see any of his friends coming.</p><p>Hyejin eventually comes into view in the alleyway opposite him, and Kun sees Jaemin approaching in the distance. Hyejin has her snakes tucked into a hat, so nothing glints as she steps into the gleam of a streetlight. Kun steps out too, and the three of them meet, wordlessly, in front of the doors.</p><p>As soon as they're near, the doors open automatically, and they step into the strange, still darkness of the building lobby. Kun's eyes have barely begun adjusting to the darkness when Seulgi comes forward, gesturing for them to follow her down a hallway.</p><p>They all walk quietly, the whispering of fabric the only sound as Seulgi leads them deeper into the building. The little holo map glows faintly as it bobs with Seulgi's movements; she's projecting it from a wristband. The guards are all shown as green dots; their group shows as blue. Seulgi makes the occasional sudden turn in order to avoid the green dots, and Kun can do nothing but follow. He hopes they don't get separated because he's already lost in the maze of identical hallways. A few paces ahead, Yerim and Hyejin's shoulders brush with every few steps, and Kun finds himself smiling in spite of the tension. Jaemin comes up beside him and holds out his hand. Kun blinks, and takes it.</p><p>After about five or ten minutes of walking, including the descent of several flights of stairs at seemingly random intervals, Seulgi draws them up to a stop.</p><p>"It's ahead," she says very quietly. "There are guards, though."</p><p>"We need their keys, anyway," Jaemin says. "Let's use a bot."</p><p>Seulgi looks over at Yerim and Hyejin, and the three women have a silent conversation for a moment before Yerim pulls one of the spider bots out of her pocket. She powers it up, and it unfolds its legs, its small blue camera light blinking on as it finds its footing in her palm. She sets it on the floor, and they wait a minute for Jungwoo, who is controlling remotely, to notice that they've turned a bot on.</p><p>After a second, it blinks its light rapidly, and then turns quickly and scuttles down the hall and around the corner, out of sight. Its light has turned red.</p><p>"Morse code," Yerim whispers. "He said good work and good luck."</p><p>The bot comes skittering back around the corner a few moments later, the camera light back to its usual blue. Yerim collects it and shuts it off, and Seulgi creeps around the corner.</p><p>Two guards lie motionless in front of the door at the end of the hall. Jaemin goes right up to them with Yerim, and after a few moments, he produces a peculiar skeleton key.</p><p>"That's all?" Kun asks.</p><p>"Bet it's got electronic reinforcements," Seulgi says, taking it from Jaemin. "Can you grab the guy you got it from? We usually use a retinal scan."</p><p>Jaemin hoists the guard up, one arm around his chest and the other under one of his arms so he can reach up and hold his eye open.</p><p>Sure enough, when Seulgi slots the key into the lock, the door whirs and clicks, and the key emits a holo scanner. Jaemin pushes the guard into the light.</p><p>"It's dual-authentication," Seulgi murmurs, looking at the panel next to the doorknob, which is now glowing. "It needs a handprint from the other guard."</p><p>"This is really quite complicated for a system that's easy to bypass," Hyejin comments, pulling on Kun's arm so he'll come help her with the other guard. "You should really speak to your father about that, Yerim-ah."</p><p>"The hand, quickly," Seulgi says.</p><p>Kun shuffles around Yerim, supporting the guard's body while Hyejin pulls the glove off and presses it to the panel on the door.</p><p>At last, the key turns in the lock, and the door opens a crack. Kun, Hyejin, and Jaemin put the guards down carefully, arranging them close to the wall so that they're not as noticeable, and then they file through the door behind Seulgi and Yerim.</p><p>"Does it lock from this side?" Yerim asks.</p><p>"I think you just need the key," Seulgi replies. "Let's test it."</p><p>Yerim goes back to the other side of the door and closes it behind her. She puts the key into the lock and turns it easily, letting Yerim back into the hall.</p><p>"Amazing," Seulgi says drily. She hooks the key on to one of her belt loops and taps the little map back to life. "Let's go."</p><p>Kun watches the map as they walk. It seems they're in some kind of main hallway, and it branches off as they go. It's dim; there are only a few small light fixtures spaced across the hallways, and some of them seem to be out of power. They step in and out of puddles of light as Seulgi leads them down the halls.</p><p>"Shit." A few dots appear on the map not too far ahead of them. Seulgi ducks down a side hall, and the rest of them follow as quickly as possible. They keep walking, watching the dots carefully. The dots pass by the turn they took without pausing but Seulgi keeps moving anyway, leading them away from most of the dots. They keep walking until they hit a door.</p><p>"No floorplan," Yerim says, nodding at the map. "That door's out of Jungwoo's range. We can't go through it. We'll be seen."</p><p>"Let's use the scanner, at least." Hyejin steps forward, pulling her scanner out and holding against the wall until it buzzes. She pulls it back, and it displays a low-quality laser holo of the room in front of them.</p><p>There's a curved hallway first; it disappears off the holo quickly. It must not be a wide hallway, because the scan shows structure beyond the far wall. Blurry heat signatures appear in huddles, except for the ones that seem to be individuals, stationed at even intervals along the curved wall.</p><p>"What is that?" Jaemin hisses. "Where are we?"</p><p>"I don't know," Seulgi replies. "I'll mark our location and we'll image it when we get back."</p><p>"It looks like a huge circle," Hyejin notes, studying the holo. "It's like a big cage. These ones here—" She points at the small heat signatures stationed along the wall. "They look like guards."</p><p>"We're gonna run into some guards if we don't get moving," Yerim says, pointing at Seulgi's map. A couple of green dots are drawing near. "Save the image, Hyejin. We'll look at it when we get back."</p><p>Seulgi takes up the lead again. They stay near the outskirts of the mapped area, though they slowly make their way back towards the center. There's a block of the map missing, Kun sees, as they keep walking. A rectangle in the center has nothing, not even green dots. A few seem to be lingering outside this area, but whatever it is, they have no visibility.</p><p>"What do you think is in there?" Jaemin asks Kun quietly, his gaze glued to the dim glow of the map.</p><p>"No idea," Kun replies, "but I bet it's what we're looking for."</p><p>After a couple of detours, they reach the outer wall of the empty space. Yerim pulls out her scanner, and after a few seconds, she turns around.</p><p>The holo image is curious. It's a large rectangular room with short sections of wall interspersed throughout.</p><p>"They look like cells," Jaemin says. "D'you think it's some kind of prison?"</p><p>"What would my father need with a prison?" Yerim asks. She isn't being dismissive; her tone is cautious and a little hurt.</p><p>"Well, we've walked far," Hyejin points out. "We could be under the police department by now."</p><p>"Yeah, but we can still access it from the UltraViolet building," Yerim says.</p><p>"There aren't any heat signatures," Kun says. "So I don't think it's a jail. Even if there are no guards inside, the scanner would still pick up the prisoners."</p><p>"Unless the prisoners aren't human," Jaemin suggests.</p><p>"If they were droids, they'd just disassemble them and melt down the pieces," Seulgi says. "So I don't think that's it, either."</p><p>"Maybe it's some kind of workshop," Yerim says. "Or like, testing area."</p><p>"Maybe," Seulgi agrees. "Well, if there's nobody inside, we should try to get in and have a look around.</p><p>"I bet they're guarding the doors here," Hyejin says, pointing at the green dots nearby.</p><p>"Should we use the bot again?" Yerim moves to reach into her pocket.</p><p>"No, we might need them awake to help us get in." Seulgi sighs. "The only trouble is, they'll shout for help before we'll be able to get answers out of them."</p><p>"One of my snakes produces a sedative," Hyejin offers quietly. "We can get close, and I'll hit them with that first. It doesn't knock them out, just makes them quiet, sluggish, and agreeable. And then—" She twists her hands. "I have a truth serum as well."</p><p>Kun only stares. "That's impossible," he says. "They've been trying to manufacture one for ages without succeeding."</p><p>"Yeah, well, maybe if they had hired me, there'd be one on the market," Hyejin says. "I promise it works. It's not approved because I've never submitted it for government testing. I just think—it's too dangerous. I didn't even tell all of you because it would be disastrous if the wrong people got their hands on it, you know?"</p><p>"You're right," Yerim says gently. "Of course you'd keep something like that a secret. It <em> is </em> dangerous."</p><p>"We'll discuss this later," Seulgi says. "If Hyejin says it works, then I'm sure it works. Let's go."</p><p>They creep along the side of the room until they reach the corner. Hyejin goes ahead a few paces while the rest of them remain down the hall a little, hidden in the shadows. She pulls her hat off carefully, and her snakes unfurl. The glittering green of their eyes creates an eerie sort of halo of light around her head. They hover and bob; Hyejin is stock-still. She seems to be talking to them.</p><p>"She looks magical," Jaemin whispers.</p><p>Suddenly, one of her snakes extends, shooting out and around the corner. A few seconds later, it retracts, its eyes flickering off, head resting on Hyejin's shoulder.</p><p>"C'mon!" She waves them forward, pulling her mask up, and together Kun and the others follow her, securing their masks as well.</p><p>The three guards sit slumped against the wall, looking around dazedly. Hyejin crouches next to the first one, one of her snakes drawn up to eye-level, poised to attack.</p><p>"How do we get inside?" Seulgi asks.</p><p>"Who are you?" the guard asks quietly.</p><p>"How do we get in?" Seulgi repeats, ignoring them.</p><p>"We should call," one of the other guards says slowly. "For backup. They shouldn't be here."</p><p>"My earpiece is missing," the third guard says, sounding more confused than worried.</p><p>"Sorry." Jaemin holds three earpieces up in the faint light for them to see. "You won't be calling for anybody."</p><p>"Just inject them," Seulgi says.</p><p>Hyejin blinks, and her snake lunges forward, sinking its fangs into the guard's neck. When it pulls away, Kun can't even see the mark. The guard groans quietly, tipping their head forward. After a second, they raise it again, slower this time.</p><p>"How do we get in?" Seulgi asks for the third time.</p><p>"We each have a key." The guard's voice has gone monotonous. "You need all three to open the door. We are not allowed to open the door without the chairman's presence, so it requires a drop of his blood as well."</p><p>"That's stupid, you could just get a vial from him beforehand, or drag him here unconscious," Jaemin says.</p><p>"Mm-mm, we use this tech often," Yerim says. "It requires an injection; the needle goes in first to check your vitals, so you <em> would </em> have to actually drag the chairman here. Once it's ascertained that it's drawing from a live person, not a vial or something, it takes a drop of blood and runs it through a genome sequencer. It takes a minute or two, but eventually it determines if the sample matches or not."</p><p>"Hang on," Kun says. "Sequencers take forever. I have one of the best ones, and it still takes like fifteen minutes to run through the entire human genome."</p><p>"Yes, ours only looks for specific genes. The idea is that no one is similar enough to my father to be able to pass the matching test," Yerim explains.</p><p>"You'd need to be related in order to bypass the machine," Hyejin says slowly.</p><p>"Yes," Yerim says, calm. "And my sisters and I are my father's only living relatives."</p><p>"Guess he never thought you'd be a problem," Seulgi says fondly. "So? Do you think your blood will work?"</p><p>"It should," Yerim replies. "My father uses this for some of his vaults. He wanted to make sure we had access in case something happened to him."</p><p>"Wouldn't that make you guys targets, though?" Hyejin asks as she extracts the key from the guard and stands.</p><p>"Well, no one is supposed to know about it," Yerim says. "But my father always said to just let whoever might want to steal from us use our blood if it meant we got away with our lives, so I think he was well aware of the risks."</p><p>Kun goes to search one of the other guards for another key; Seulgi is working on the third guard. "I'm assuming he did not tell you that your blood also unlocks whatever this is."</p><p>"No," Yerim says. "There are a few vaults in our house and around the city, but he never mentioned anything here."</p><p>"Well," Seulgi says, handing the key to Hyejin. "I hope it works."</p><p>"We came all the way here," Yerim says as Kun gives the key he found to Hyejin as well. "We might as well try."</p><p>Yerim and Hyejin insert the keys together, turning them simultaneously. A little tool extends out of the door. Yerim offers her finger for it to prick. After a moment, it chimes softly and pulls away.</p><p>"Now what?" Jaemin asks.</p><p>Yerim shakes her hand out, wincing slightly. "Now we wait for it to sort through my genetic material.” She pulls her glove back on, watching the door.</p><p>"If it doesn't accept you, what then?" Kun asks.</p><p>"Then we run," Yerim says with a shrug. "I don't think it'll be a problem, though."</p><p>"Well, it better hurry," Seulgi says. She's pulled up the little map again, and she's pointing at a couple of green dots. "There's guards headed this way."</p><p>"What do we do with them?" Kun asks, pointing at the guards at their feet.</p><p>"Stand them up and hope they don't stop to chat," Hyejin says. "One of us will have to stay outside to watch them anyway."</p><p>Kun, Jaemin, and Seulgi pull the guards to their feet as the device chimes.</p><p>"All clear," Yerim says as the door clicks open. "Who's staying?"</p><p>"I'll do it," Jaemin said. "The rest of you need to be in there."</p><p>"Take a bot." Yerim hands him one of the spider bots. "Try to knock the guards out before they see you."</p><p>"Thanks." Jaemin takes it, and Kun turns and follows the girls inside. The doors shut behind them, and the lights hum to life.</p><p>The sight that greets them is as mind-boggling as it is terrifying. What they thought were cells are actually tanks of a strange, pale blue liquid. What's worse than the odd glow from the liquid is the naked figures floating in these tanks.</p><p>"Father?" Yerim whispers, staring up at the nearest one.</p><p>It seems to be the chairman. His eyes are closed, and he doesn't seem to have any of his mods, but it <em> is </em> the chairman—or, at least, his body.</p><p>"There's more." Hyejin's voice shakes. "Look."</p><p>There are a few more of the chairman floating in identical tanks further into the room. And behind them are the figures of girls.</p><p>"Oh my god." Yerim's voice cracks. "That's me." She hurries over to a tank further down. Kun looks up at the figure's face. It's Yerim—except it's <em> not </em> Yerim, because Yerim's standing right in front of him with tears welling in her eyes. But it is, somehow; there are three Yerims behind the girl Kun has come to know, floating, unconscious.</p><p>"Your sisters, too," Seulgi whispers. Kun follows her arm. Though he's never spoken at length with any of Yerim's siblings, he recognizes Yoorim's face immediately. The two smaller ones must be Yeeun and Chaeeun. "Are they droids?"</p><p>"I think they're like clones," Hyejin says. "Look, Kun. That's for growing cells, isn't it?"</p><p>She's pointing to a machine on the wall that's hooked up to some kind of incubator. "Yeah," Kun says slowly. "But if they were clones, they'd have to age. Growing the cells alone doesn't spit out a fully-formed human person. The chairman would've had to have been growing these clones since he was born. I think... I think they might be some kind of droid-clone mix. Like—like a mod, except instead of an arm or a leg, it's a whole body."</p><p>"UltraViolet would have the parts," Seulgi murmurs. "But how would you—I mean, you can't just pluck out your brain and put it into a new body. And even if that were possible, it would do nothing if your brain was no longer functioning."</p><p>"I don't know," Yerim says. Her voice is no longer shaking. Kun turns to look at her and her eyes are dark, but determined somehow. Her expression is cold and hard. "But my father has clearly been hiding many things. I don't know if he has even gotten it to work yet, but it looks like he has found his solution. Build us extra bodies in case something happens to the ones we were born in. If he had this tech when Mom was alive, he could have removed her brain from her body somehow and put it into a new one after Chaeeun was born."</p><p>"With tech like this, you'd literally never die," Seulgi says. "Especially if he finds a way to separate your consciousness from anything physical. You'd be able to upload your brain onto some external hardware, and back it up on some secure server. Even if someone shot you in the head, you'd be able to download into a new body, sitting ready in a lab. It might not even have to be your body—any empty body would do."</p><p>"It's not right." Yerim casts her gaze around the room. "I'm sure there are plenty of powerful people that want this tech as soon as it's ready. We have to stop him."</p><p>"No wonder the Umbra are working with him, then," Kun says. "Yuta said they were all about finding the key to immortality. Looks like the chairman is the key."</p><p>"Well, as much as I'd love to stay and poke around," Seulgi says. "I think we've been here too long. We need to get this information back to the others. I don't want to risk getting caught."</p><p>"Yes," Yerim agrees. "We should go. My father can't know that I know."</p><p>Seulgi pulls up the map again; there are a few green dots gathered outside, but no one has come to disturb them yet, so she pulls the door open.</p><p>Jaemin is waiting outside with the spider bot in hand. He points down the hall a ways. "Got them before they even saw these three," he says. "They'll be out for a while."</p><p>"Let's put them inside. Less noticeable that way," Seulgi suggests. Jaemin nods, and Seulgi follows him down the hall to retrieve the guards. They pull them into the door while the other three keep watch.</p><p>"And what about these guys?" Hyejin asks, nodding at the three guards that she sedated.</p><p>Yerim looks at them for a second, and then draws a small pistol from her pocket. "They have memory chips," she says. Kun doesn't know what it is in her tone that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Or maybe it's just the click of the gun in her hand. "Even if they don't recognize me, the security team will play back the footage, or they'll ask them to describe us, and my father will know."</p><p>"What are you—?" But it's too late. Yerim fires three shots, quiet thanks to the silencer on her pistol. The guards drop to the floor.</p><p>"Quickly, get them inside," she says. Kun can only obey numbly, though his skin feels like it's on fire. Faintly, he hears Jaemin gasp; he assumes he's just noticed his surroundings. "Hold their head to the side, your right, their left." He presses the side of the guard's face into the ground and waits, watching Yerim bend over one of the other bodies out of the corner of his eye. After a moment, she comes up beside him, flicking open a switchblade, and slices open the skin behind the guard's ear.</p><p>Seulgi joins her, peering through one of the lenses stored in the band on her head. "Right here," she mutters, reaching out with tweezers to remove something that Kun can't see. She drops it into a small container that's come out of that band as well. "Why did you do that?" she asks Yerim as the tools fold themselves back into the band. "You didn't have to kill them."</p><p>"It's the only way they can't tell what they saw," Yerim replies. Her tone is still chillingly calm, but when Kun looks up, he sees a great deal of pain in her eyes. "My father can't know."</p><p>"We don't even know if that's true! What if he already has the tech to retrieve someone's consciousness and put it in a body?" Seulgi protests.</p><p>"If he did," Yerim replies. "He would've brought my mother back from the dead already." She stands. "Come on," she says. "The guards outside the first door will wake soon, or they'll be found. We need to be gone before that happens."</p><p>They lock the doors, leaving the keys hanging from the doorknob, and head back the way they came. Luckily, the little map comes with the ability to retrace their steps, so it's easy for them to find their way. Soon, they’re nearing that first door again. They dodge guards easily, never coming close to crossing paths with one. With every step they take, they get further from immediate danger. And yet, Kun’s heart still races. His hands shake at his sides.</p><p>Jaemin pauses, waiting for Kun to catch up with him. He takes his hand again and leans close. "I thought Yerim was nice," he says, loud enough just for Kun to hear. "I thought she was sweet. What's going on?"</p><p>Kun just shakes his head. "I don't know." His voice is trembling; his whole body is trembling. "I didn't think she was capable of that."</p><p>"I mean," Jaemin says. "I guess it kind of makes sense."</p><p>"What do you mean?" Kun gives him a confused look.</p><p>"If I saw <em> my </em> clone," he replies. "I think I'd go crazy, too."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank u sm for reading &lt;3</p><p><a href="https://kjmsupremacist.tumblr.com/about">tumblr</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/_kjmsupremacist">twitter</a> | <a href="https://curiouscat.me/_kjmsupremacist">curiouscat</a></p><p>also i feel like this got formatted weird even tho i havent changed the way i post so.... thats cute</p>
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